


Access Economics

by bitter_leaf



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Liam is a solid wingman, Little to no actual economics, M/M, Niche Australian sports references that you don’t need to understand to enjoy this, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Recreational Drug Use, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-02-01 06:30:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21418489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitter_leaf/pseuds/bitter_leaf
Summary: “I know what you’re doing,” Louis accuses, breathless. His footy boots still hang over his shoulder and he must look a wreck.“Just stop, ok?”Niall looks like he’s about to cry, shy and cornered. He doesn’t reply, just looks at his feet.“Please,” Louis whispers, looking Niall square in the eye. Niall still looks like he’s about to run off but he holds firm under Louis’ gaze and it makes Louis feel bold, reaching to grab Niall’s hand.“Please,” he repeats. “I’m trying to ask you out. At least hear me out before running off.”__When Louis moves to a new city for a new job with a big economics firm, he’s charmed by Niall, his colleague and new housemate. However, when things turn physical and feelings get involved, they find themselves in a risky game of supply and demand.
Relationships: Niall Horan/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 70





	Access Economics

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came about because I wanted to write some Nouis and because I needed to justify using the Deloitte tagline as a punny fic title. Advanced apologies to Deloitte, please don't sue me for referencing your multinational conglomerate in 25k words of angsty smut. I also know nothing about economics so like, yeah.
> 
> Thanks have to go to [Le](https://candybarrnerd.tumblr.com/) for the amazing beta - thank you for knowing what I wanted to say when I didn't know how to say it, for turning my word vomit into prose and for being enthusiastic to bring more Nouis into the world. You are a gem!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/183780535@N02/48889127807/in/dateposted-public/)

**"**Fucking come _on_,” Louis grunts, hammering the button to the elevator. Despite his most insistent efforts, the damn thing won’t call for the floor he needs. He checks his watch impatiently. Taking a deep breath and pressing the button one more time, softly now, he hears a cheery voice behind him.

“You gotta swipe first for that floor, mate,” the voice says and Louis spins around to identify its owner.

It was a guy about his age, about his height, browny-blond haired with pink cheeks and a sunny smile. “It’s a security measure but mainly it’s a pain in the ass.”

Louis chuckles; the guy’s cheerful attitude is contagious. “Well that sucks for me, it’s my first day, I don’t have a pass yet.”

“They can usually call someone at the desk.” The guy makes no rush to call the lift to his own floor, happy to shoot the breeze.

“I was hoping someone would be going to my floor but it’s too early,” Louis shrugs, it had just gone eight and he wanted to impress on his first day but hadn’t thought whether he’d have anyone to look after him before nine a.m.

“What floor you headed to?” the guy asks, adjusting the strap of his satchel on his shoulder.

Louis checked the post-it note stuck to the back of his phone, “Uh, fourteen?”

“Well why didn’t you just say so,” the guy beams, “I’m Niall. Horan.” He holds out his hand and Louis shakes it confidently; he still isn’t sure what this guy has to do with anything but–

“I’m with Deloitte too. First day you said?” He swipes his pass at the card reader and presses the button. To Louis’ mixed annoyance and relief, the fucking thing finally lights up.

“What did you say your name was, mate?” The guy, Niall, asks.

“Oh, I didn’t,” Louis supplies, holding out his hand, “Louis Tomlinson.”

Niall shakes Louis’ hand exuberantly. “Tomlinson… Tomlinson…” Niall tries the name out on his tongue, “Oh fuck, yeah you’re in my division, I saw Cowell’s email about you last week.” He slaps Louis on the back like they’re already best mates. “I’ll be sitting near you, I specialise in property development modelling.”

Niall steps into the lift and the doors close.

Louis nods slowly. “Sick. This is a bit of a new direction for me, my background is in qualitative modelling, scenario planning, that sort of thing.”

Niall nods. “We do that here too, but less so. You’ll like the change, some huge clients. Lots of perks.” Niall winks and Louis stares at his reflection in the elevator mirror.

When his relationship had fallen apart a few months ago, Louis had decided he needed a change, a big one to clear his head and give himself a fresh start. So, without any expectations, on a whim, he’d applied for a new job in a different city and had thrown caution to the wind. He’d been surprised when he got it but packed up his shit, found some short term accommodation and here he was.

Niall ushers him out of the lift with a hand on his upper back and Louis wonders what he’s done to endear this guy to him quite so quickly. Niall acts like he doesn’t have a care in the world and Louis finds his complete lack of self-consciousness refreshing.

“This is Cassie,” Niall says, flashing the girl at the front desk his winningest smile. “Hi Cass,” he says under his breath, wiggling his eyebrows. “Louis’ _new_.” He says the word as if it’s a secret.

“Nice to meet you, Louis.” Cassie offers her hand, smiling, but doesn’t make full eye contact.

Niall turns to Louis. “Treat her well and she’ll do wonders for you.” Niall slaps the booth and Cassie blushes darkly.

Louis raises his eyebrows at the pair of them but says a polite hello. Niall leads him further into the enormous office space. “So, we’re across four levels but macro is mostly here, and a few of the public sector teams on the fifteenth.”

Louis nods. He doesn’t know what he would have done if Niall hadn’t showed up when he did; sit around in the lobby like a tragic, probably.

“How long have you worked here?” Louis asks when Niall finally lets him get a word in edgeways.

Niall looks at him with a bemused look on his face that Louis’ coming to recognise isn’t meant as mocking. “Three years.” Niall wiggles his eyebrows again, for what Louis has no idea, but a small ball of warmth forms in his chest; he likes the way Niall makes him feel like everything is some sort of mad conspiracy between them, even if Niall is clearly not selective about his friendships since he’s evidently decided to adopt Louis at first sight.

“You and Cassie a thing then?” Louis asks once they’re well out of earshot. He’s not usually one for this kind of talk, after all he’s been in a long-term relationship since he was eighteen–well, _used_ to be. He doesn’t know why he asks, if he cares, but he wants to make a good impression even he’s still trying to gauge how he feels about his new, slightly overexuberant, friend.

Niall snorts as he shows him the common areas and the kitchenette. “God, no. She’s a sweet girl but not my type. Like, at all.” Louis regrets asking now because it’s a non-starter; there’s no way he can ask Niall about his type when they’ve known each other for less than ten minutes.

“Ah, cool,” Louis offers aimlessly.

Niall leads them through a short corridor and to the work floor, and its massive; desks upon desks upon meetings rooms and common spaces. The floor to ceiling windows have a spectacular view of the street below and from the fourteenth floor, they can see all the way across the city in almost every direction. Louis likes it already.

“So, we hot desk around here,” Niall says, dumping his satchel on a random desk. “Fucking everyone thinking they’re Google, it’s a nightmare.”

Louis smiles but it’s tentative.

“Go on, put your shit down over here,” Niall gestures to the desk next to his. “I tell you, the only reason I’m in this fucking early is so I can get a good desk. Get in late and you’re stuck in the _collaboration zone_,” he says it sarcastically, using air-quotes, “which means you have to run models off a laptop, it’s a total pain in the ass.”

Louis smiles and nods. Niall’s not backwards about coming forwards but he appreciates the insider knowledge.

“Cowell usually gets in around nine-thirty, honestly I have no idea why he asked you to come in so early,” Niall says unloading his stuff onto the desk, claiming it.

Louis feels awkward; his new boss, Simon, didn’t tell him when to come in at all and he feels stupid now for trying to impress by coming in early. “Uh, he didn’t actually. I should have checked,” Louis says sheepishly.

Niall finally stops fussing with his workstation and turns around to look at Louis. He eyes him off, bag still on his shoulder, hands in his pockets, looking around nervously. “Fuck, I’m freaking you out a bit, aren’t I?” Niall exhales, “Sorry man, I know I can be a little intense.”

Louis snorts with laughter and for the first time since walking in to the foyer of the building, he feels comfortable. Niall cringes just a fraction and rolls his eyes at himself. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He looks up at Louis shyly and chuckles.

“Listen, we’ve got over an hour until you can even get online so why don’t we go grab a coffee?” Seeing Louis’ look, Niall raises his palms in surrender, “Ok, ok, decaf for me,” he says smiling. “You can tell me a bit about yourself and I can shut my trap and listen for once.”

Louis spends a moment putting his bag down and throwing his jacket over the back of the chair, claiming his spot, before grabbing his phone and his wallet. “Let’s go.”

Niall leads them down the street to a quaint little café and Louis doesn’t mention how Melbourne it is, milk crates on the ground for sitting on, over-enthused hipsters raving about single-origin this and pour-overs that. It’s different from Sydney; Sydney hipsters are all a bit less grungy, he thinks. Sydney has more polish but Melbourne has more personality.

“So where are you from, Lou?” Niall asks and Louis is only momentarily shocked Niall’s using nicknames already. He doesn’t tell Niall that only his ex ever called him ‘Lou’; he was universally known as ‘Tommo’ to all his mates.

“Sydney,” Louis grunts and Niall’s face lights up as if he’s ready to pounce. “But before you say anything, I think I’m coming around to the place already.”

Niall smiles, sipping his not-at-all-decaf latte. “Well,” he says, “that’s the right answer. But I’ll show you a good time, so you can really recognise Melbourne’s absolute superiority.”

“Not sure about your footy though,” Louis chides; there’s no way he’s going to be an Aussie Rules fan if he has anything to do with it.

Niall takes the bait, “Well,” he says again mischievously, “show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

For no reason he can glean, it leaves Louis feeling hot; it’s like Niall’s so disarming it makes him feel exposed, like Niall can see right through him.

Louis purses his lips and giggles despite himself. “Oh, fuck,” he snorts finally, unable to hold it together.

Niall slaps his knee, laughing with him without a shred of embarrassment and suddenly it’s no longer awkward. It’s truly a talent, Louis thinks, that Niall can be so forward but not even remotely annoying. He’s probably the most outgoing person Louis’ ever met, and Louis’ no wallflower, but Niall makes him feel like he’s the most interesting person alive, like he’s deserving of Niall’s all-consuming attention.

They stare at each other for a few moments before Niall exhales loudly. “So, why’d you make the move down to our fair city, Louis?”

Louis takes a sip of his own coffee to gather his thoughts; it’s not a huge tale but it’s a bit heavy. “Me and the fiancée broke up, needed a change.”

Niall looks him square in the eye as if he’s reading him. “That bad, huh?”

Louis shrugs. “It’s ok now, I’m not like, bereft or anything, but we were together for eight years.”

“Fuck,” Niall whistles low, “can I ask what happened?” Niall asks quietly and all of a sudden it’s like he’s transformed from tour guide to confidant.

Louis sighs; the story isn’t a sordid one, he’s not heartbroken and Eleanor isn’t bitter but it’s all just… sad. “She wanted to get married and I… didn’t, I guess. Still, I felt I should propose, so I did, but it was just the beginning of the end. Broke up, thought it might be a temporary thing, like we’d sort it out, but I applied for this before we could, and so here I am.”

“You think this is a permanent thing, then?” Niall asks, and Louis realises he hasn’t really even thought about it.

Louis shrugs. “Permanent for now, I guess.”

Niall smiles at him, eyes sparkling. “Not ready to settle down then?”

Normally Louis would be irritated at this line of questioning, especially from someone he’d just met. But despite Niall’s smile, there’s no judgement in his voice, it’s like he’s asking just because he likes hearing Louis talk.

Louis chuckles despite himself. “Jeez, you’ll know me better than my own mother by this afternoon at this rate.” Niall just keeps on smiling as if he’s being told a particularly juicy secret. “I dunno, I always thought I would, and with her, not with like some mystery future woman,” Louis makes a dismissive hand gesture, “but when it came to the crunch, I couldn’t go through with it. We probably should have broken up years ago,” he adds. That was what El had told him, anyway.

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy that would lead someone on, Lou,” Niall says softly, finishing off his coffee so the conversation feels less intense, “these things happen sometimes. It’s no one’s fault.”

Louis raises his eyebrows and tilts his head as if to say, _I suppose you’re right. _It’s been weeks now since the hurt felt acute, when their families were still dealing with the whole messy fall-out.

“Where you living, man?” Niall asks, changing the subject.

“Uh, kinda nowhere at the moment. I was meant to come down here earlier and find a place but my old job begged me to stay longer and I’d already told Deloitte I’d start this week. I’m in a serviced apartment and it’s fucking expensive, so I’m a bit desperate actually.”

Niall raises his eyebrows and nods slowly. “I mean, feel free to say no but I actually have a room in my place. My housemate fucked off to France for a year and I’ve been dragging my heels advertising it but it sounds like you really need a place and I really need a tenant. I mean, you don’t need to say yes or whatever straight away, come by after work, I’ll show you the room.”

Louis thinks about it. Niall seems cool if a little intense, and Niall’s right, he is desperate. He could probably do a lot worse. “Sure mate, ok.”

Louis takes a sip of his coffee; he’s only been at his job an hour, less really considering he’s not even actually _started_ yet, and he’s already got himself a buddy, and possibly a place to live. Not a bad effort. There’s a silence that’s not altogether awkward but Louis feels a little on edge.

“What about you, seeing anyone?” Louis blurts out before he can think; he’s not sure he actually wants to hear the answer in case Niall’s some sort of cringeworthy lothario.

Niall purses his lips and pauses and Louis thinks he’s contemplating how to answer. “Not at the moment,” he replies, speaking uncharacteristically slowly, as if he’s shy about it.

Louis snickers at Niall’s expense, happy to get one up over him finally. “Oh, that’s shut him up,” he says grinning.

Niall laughs with him good-naturedly but Louis hears the nerves in his voice still. He doesn’t press.

Finally, Niall speaks up. “Broke up with someone myself actually, not too long ago.”

“Oh?” Louis replies coyly, innocently, before it occurs to him that maybe Niall’s story is somehow way worse, the hurt way more palpable than his own. “Shit, you know what, it’s none of my business.”

Niall snorts with laughter. “Mate, don’t be cute. You told me your story, I’m not gonna play the private business card with you now.” He adds in a hushed tone, “Just so you know though, relationship talk is well into mates territory, so if you’re a bit iffy about me,” he tips his hand back and forth to illustrate Louis being on the fence about him, “best turn back now.”

Louis just rolls his eyes fondly. “Oh you do go on, don’t you.”

Niall cackles showing his teeth. “Better get used to it, buddy.” Niall sighs once his laughter has subsided. “We were together for like, six months maybe? I was pretty keen but it wasn’t really going anywhere.”

Louis nods sympathetically before upping the banter, the tried and true way to alleviate awkwardness between bros. “I can’t imagine any girl not wanting a piece of you, Horan.” It feels good to click with someone this quickly in a new city and Louis thinks he’ll seriously contemplate Niall’s offer to move in with him.

Niall chokes on his water a bit, muffling his coughs in the crook of his elbow, “Uh,” he starts once he’s recovered, “it wasn’t a girl.”

Louis looks at him square on for a moment, blue eyes on blue. “Oh,” he pauses lamely, “Ok, cool.”

If Louis looks shocked, Niall doesn’t call him out on it. It’s not that Louis’ homophobic or anything like that, _he has gay friends_, he thinks, although that’s something he definitely shouldn’t say lest he sound like a total fuckwit. He’s just surprised, that’s all. “Cool,” he repeats stupidly, and it’s, well… it is what it is.

Niall cackles because of course he does. “Oh man, I was willing to just gloss over it until you did that. “_Cool_,” he quotes in an impersonation of Louis’ voice, “good fucking grief.”

Louis blushes so badly he can feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. “You’re the worst,” he mutters sheepishly before breaking into a grin. He gives Niall a little shove across the table and rolls his eyes. “Piss off.”

Niall just laughs happily at Louis’ expense and for a millisecond, Louis feels that strange little burst of warmth in his chest again. “Come on lover boy, get me back to the office before I’m fired for skiving off before I even start.”

**

After work, Louis takes one look at Niall’s place; modern kitchen, hardwood floors, light, airy, and most importantly, _clean_, and it’s all he needs to know. “I’m sold,” he says, slapping Niall’s hand, and it’s a done deal.

His room is slightly smaller than Niall’s, the master, but he has his own bathroom because Niall has an ensuite. The living room isn’t huge but it’s spacious enough space for a couch, an armchair and Niall’s huge fucking television. Louis whistles low when he sees it, “Respect,” and Niall beams.

“I don’t have a lot of stuff in storage; bed, couple of bookcases, my own TV. I can probably do it Friday night if you’re free to give me a hand?”

Niall nods. “For sure.”

Louis stops in the doorway as he turns to go; today’s been such a whirlwind that he feels kind of strange to be leaving Niall behind, after all, they’ve been together basically every minute of the day. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.” Louis shoves his hands in his pockets awkwardly, swaying a little on the heels of his feet.

“Yep,” Niall replies warmly without a hint of sarcasm. Louis knows he should just fucking leave but something makes him linger.

“Just so we’re clear, we’re not sharing food right?” Louis asks, grinning.

Niall lets out a loud squawk of laughter and Louis can’t help but be endeared. “If you touch my food, I’ll cut your fucking hand off, mate.”

Louis lowers his eyes and laughs with him. “Ok, I better go.”

Niall watches him walk down the hall towards the elevator, “Hey Lou?” he calls, “Just so you know, I’m definitely going to steal yours.” Niall grins and shuts the door and even though he’s gone, Louis returns his smile, feeling just a little breathless.

**

With Niall’s help, Louis moves his meagre lot of stuff into the apartment as planned on Friday night. He’s sweaty and feeling pretty stuffed by the time he’s done though and Niall nudges a beer into his hand after he’s stretched out on Niall’s couch.

Louis groans with delight. “Oh bless you,” he says and Niall laughs, shoving Louis’ legs aside so he can sit down next to him.

They sip their beers in silence for a few minutes before Niall switches on the footy. To his enormous chagrin, he’s finding himself quite enjoying the AFL.

“Pizza?” Niall asks with a grin when they’ve finished their first drinks.

“Oh, fuck yes.”

Niall orders them a massive pizza each and turns out he wasn’t joking about the food; Louis’ in awe as Niall murders the better part of his and then steals a slice or two of what Louis’ left behind.

Louis rubs his belly contentedly when he’s done. “So, how long you lived here?”

Niall shifts in his seat, yawning; it’s been a long week. “Just over a year?” he phrases it like a question, as if he can’t quite remember, “When I finally had the money to buy, I guess. Was in share-houses before that.”

Louis nods. “I never did the whole share house thing. Moved in with El when we moved out of home. Sometimes I think I should have tried to have the whole uni share-house experience but…” he trails off.

Niall scoffs, “Don’t worry mate, you didn’t miss much. People are fucking gross.” Niall wrinkles his nose.

Louis smiles, he thinks it’s cute how Niall’s so tidy, even if he’d never tell him that. “What was the last guy like?”

Niall roll his eyes, “Fine, I guess. I didn’t really see him that much, it’s not like we were friends. I don’t think he was a huge fan of the whole ‘me bringing guys home’ thing.”

Louis turns away from the TV to look at him, incredulous. “But it’s your fucking house!”

Niall’s eyes widen, “Right?” he exclaims. “Anyway, it’s good to be rid of him, he always ate my yoghurt, the fucker.”

Louis laughs but then the thought occurs to him. “I guess we should have some ground rules, right? Like boundaries and shit? Isn’t that what people do?”

Niall looks him in the eye sceptically before he chuckles tiredly. “Sure mate, but maybe tomorrow? I’m wiped.”

Louis nods. He feels like he should push the issue before he does something that pisses Niall off; he doesn’t want to throw his generosity back in his face by being a shit housemate but Niall doesn’t seem too phased.

“Just don’t use my aftershave or steal my food. I’ll think of a few more and you can think of some too.”

Louis clinks the neck of their bottles together. “Deal.”

It’s a few minutes before Louis speaks again and Niall’s almost dozing off, legs spread, outstretched on the coffee table. Louis gives him little nudge with his knee until Niall looks at him. He looks soft; eyelids drooping, warm smile and hair fluffy and Louis feels like he might want to hug him, look after him, like you would a little brother… or something. He pushes the thought to the back of his mind.

“Hm?” Niall answers sleepily.

“I know we can talk about this later but like… don’t feel like you can’t do whatever you want while I’m here,” he says cryptically, a little awkwardly, “like… with guys and shit. I don’t care.”

Niall looks away shyly and it’s an unfamiliar emotion from him, Louis thinks, but it’s endearing so he presses on. “Like, don’t be obviously loud and don’t get naked on the couch when you know I’m coming home, but like… yeah. Do your thing.”

Niall gives him a playful shove and rolls his eyes but the flush in his cheeks lets Louis know his words are appreciated.

**

Louis’ surprised but pleased at how well his new life appears to be falling into place. The job’s going well with Niall to show him the ropes, he’s picking up some new friends at his social footy team and his living situation is honestly a breeze.

It’s only been a month but Louis and Niall have already fallen into a routine. Louis finds out in the first week that Niall wakes up at the _actual_ crack of dawn to head to their building’s gym. While Niall works out, Louis sleeps in. Thanks to separate bathrooms, they get ready around the same time before heading out to grab breakfast before going into the office; always something substantial for Niall, a banana and a coffee for Louis. Later in the day, unless something comes up, they leave work the same time. After work, Louis heads to the gym to squeeze in a workout—even though he finds it a chore. By the time he’s finished up, Niall recruits him into helping cook, laying out little tasks for him. 

It’s a Wednesday evening and Niall’s roasting him over his appalling kitchen skills once again.

“You’re twenty seven years old and you can barely cook for yourself. I’ll admit you are improving though,” Niall says to Louis’ outraged face. “Slowly.”

“I can cook!” Louis protests. Niall’s right though, his skills are limited.

Niall scoffs, passing him a chopping board and a head of broccoli. “Babe, cereal for dinner isn’t cooking.”

Louis’ not failed to notice the term of endearment creeping in and it’s a little weird but he doesn’t hate it. He doubles-down on his indignance. “That was one fucking time! I got home late!”

Niall grins wickedly and Louis lowers his eyes. He tells himself it’s just to focus on his task but–

“Sure, sure. I know if I wasn’t here looking after you, you’d do it every night.”

Louis aggressively chops his broccoli. “Good thing I’ve got you looking after me then,” he smarts but Niall doesn’t retaliate, just musses Louis’ hair affectionately before he goes back to stir-frying the chicken. Louis looks at Niall’s broad back as he stands at the stove and he’s weirdly on edge, expecting a reply from Niall.

“Don’t look at me,” Niall says suddenly, and Louis thinks he must have eyes in the back of his head. “Look at what you’re doing, I don’t want you losing a finger!”

Louis sighs, finishes the broccoli and moves onto the carrots. They’ve been doing this a lot lately, their banter turning into gentle flirting and if he’s honest, Louis doesn’t know what to make of it.

Niall told him a few weeks back at the pub that straight guys flirt with him all the time, thinks it’s something about them liking the attention. Louis feels sheepish about that though, recognises that he _does_ like Niall’s attention, even if it’s harmless and he doesn’t actually want–or intend–for anything to happen. After all, it’s hard when Niall seems to flirt with literally everyone he meets, hell, he did it with the bloody receptionist on Louis’ first day, and that was a _chick_. Despite all this, the domesticity is nice, it’s what Louis’ used to, and if he’s found it with a buddy instead of a girl, then so be it.

Louis wedges himself at his end of the couch as they eat dinner, Niall inhaling his enormous serve in record time. “I honestly don’t know whether to be disgusted or impressed,” Louis teases him, picking at his veggies.

Niall doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re impressed, I can tell,” he says, still chewing.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yeah ok mate. You keep thinking that.”

“You know I’m a catch,” Niall says lightly like he’s only half-joking.

Louis pauses just long enough to make it awkward, and it’s a piss-poor effort at banter when he finally replies. “Yeah, you are.”

Niall gives him a concerted look but gives him the benefit of the doubt. “Fuck off,” he replies gruffly, smiling off to the side.

Louis slaps the side of Niall’s knee in what he hopes is a friendly gesture. “I mean it.”

Niall rolls his eyes and smiles wryly. “Oh god, stop. I can’t have you falling in love with me, Lou. It’s bad for business.” He doesn’t leave Louis time to answer, grabbing his barely touched dinner out of his hands. “Are you done with that?”

Louis goes to protest but no words come out of his mouth.

After his huge meal, Niall quickly falls into a stupor. It’s barely eight but when Louis looks over, Niall’s snoring lightly, his head leaning at an uncomfortable-looking angle against the back of the couch. Louis stares at him for a moment. Despite never looking twice at another guy like _that_, Louis can see Niall’s handsome; bright blue eyes, symmetrical features, perfect skin, and his face is still charmingly boyish despite the dark stubble that grazes his jaw and chin. However, it’s Niall’s permanently hopeful expression that Louis likes the most. Even in his sleep, Niall looks like he’s looking forward to something wonderful.

The movie’s long over by the time Louis wakes him with a gentle shake of the shoulder. “Go to sleep, bud. It’s late.”

Niall rouses himself slowly like a lazy puppy, pushing the hem of his shirt up ever so slightly to scratch his belly. Louis’ eyes immediately dart to the patch of skin at Niall’s treasure trail and he catches himself, standing upright to look away. _What the fuck is wrong with you,_ he scolds himself, putting it down to the novelty of living with another guy for the first time in his entire life, but even so, it worries him. He tries to push it from his mind as he pads to the kitchen to make himself tea. 

Niall yawns dramatically, stretching his arms over his head, and Louis looks down at his hands to avoid making the same mistake again. He bids Niall goodnight, takes his tea and shuts himself away in his room. He resolves to get a handle on his feelings tomorrow.

**

Louis’ bewildering feelings become a self-fulfilling prophecy; the more he tries to ignore them, the more he thinks about them, and the more he thinks about them, the more he notices them. After six weeks of living together, he’s basically noticing Niall all the time.

At work, Niall will flash him a broad smile in a meeting and Louis’ breath will catch in his throat. At home, Niall will be slouching around in pyjamas, tortoiseshell frames falling down his nose as he reads a brief and Louis will find himself fixating on the curve of Niall’s back. Even when they play footy—_especially_ when they play footy, Louis will steal glances at all the wrong moments, like when Niall’s wiping his brow with the hem of his shirt or when he’s raking a hand through his sweaty hair, cheeks flushed pink.

Not to mention, now that they’ve gotten to know one another, Niall’s calmed down and Louis’ perked up, matching him for talkativeness but just as happy to sit in silence and enjoy one another’s company. It’s fun, and peaceful, and it’s the closest thing he’s had to a best mate since leaving his actual best mate, Liam, in Sydney. 

“We going out tonight?” Niall asks one Friday. It’s three o’clock in the afternoon and Louis feels like his head’s about to explode. Between his workload and what’s going on at home, it’s like the only time his brain rests is when he’s asleep. Or drunk.

“Fuck yes,” Louis agrees wholeheartedly, squeezing his eyes together.

Louis’ not sloppy by the time they get home but he has a gentle buzz on that makes him find everything Niall says hilarious. They’ve spent the evening with some guys from work and for a few hours, Louis’ found himself happily distracted.

Louis has his tie off, shoved in his pocket, and his sleeves rolled up; the night is surprisingly warm and he abandoned his suit jacket in the office. Niall looks flushed as the elevator climbs up to their floor and Louis lets himself stare at the little puff of chest hair, exposed where Niall’s shirt’s undone.

“Do you think Jeremy’s hot?” Niall blurts out to Louis’ back as Louis leads them down to the hall to their apartment.

Louis spins around so fast he gives himself whiplash. “Jeremy?” he asks stupidly. Jeremy’s one of the guys in their section, in his early thirties, Louis thinks, tall with black hair and nice skin. He dresses well and Louis objectively knows he’s nice looking. “I think you’re asking the wrong person,” he answers, voice croaky with too much beer. He smiles weakly but Niall doesn’t buy it.

“Come on Lou, you’ve got eyes, you can see.” Niall seems mildly irritated at him.

Louis scrunches his face up, contemplating his answer. He’s not usually one of those guys who’s so _no homo_ that they refuse to acknowledge that another guy’s handsome but he also doesn’t want to encourage Niall too much, because–

“I didn’t think he was really your type, mate?” Louis sighs. Niall’s still standing staring at him in the middle of the building hallway.

“You don’t know what my type is,” Niall replies defensively and Louis frankly doesn’t know what to say.

“He’s nice, he’s fine,” he tries to placate Niall, worrying that he’s so fucking transparent. Thankfully Niall doesn’t seem to notice.

“I think I’m gonna ask him out.”

Louis visibly swallows and turns to continue down the hall. “You should,” he says as he reaches their door but his voice is unnaturally high and he just wants to get inside, hide his head under his pillow and put his racing heartbeat down to the alcohol.

“Are you ok?” Niall asks. His eyes are a bit bleary too but he must see something in Louis’ face that looks even worse. “You look kinda pale.”

Louis just nods and lets them inside, sprinting to his room.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” Niall calls, unphased. It’s only nine and Louis can’t reasonably hide in his bedroom even though that’s exactly what he wants to do.

“Yep,” Louis squeaks, “Just give me a minute.”

With his door closed, Louis tears his shirt off to give himself some air. He feels hot but clammy, a bit drunk and a little dizzy. His heart races as he steps out of his sticky suit trousers and lies back on the bed in his jocks, staring up to the ceiling and willing his pulse to slow down.

He hears Niall fire up the DVD player, detecting the familiar music of the fucking Fast & Furious 6 menu playing _again_. He doesn’t know if he can do it, sit beside Niall for another two and a half hours without his thoughts betraying him, even if his body hasn’t yet.

The thought send a little electric shock up his spine and he grazes his fingertips across his chest as the air from the open window dances across his skin. It’s five minutes, and then ten, but Louis can’t get up. His skin buzzes hot and cold, nerve endings firing as he spreads his fingers and rakes a palm around his pecs and down to his belly.

His dick’s taking only a passing interest at this point, a slight chub to it, but he knows it won’t take much if he decides to actually go for it. He can hear Niall still pottering about the living room, probably drunk cleaning like he’s done before while he waits for Louis, but Louis still can’t make himself get up.

He tries to clear his mind and analyse his thoughts as if they’re an economics problem. He’s never had a single sexual thought about a bloke in his life. He thinks about the time his mate Lachy spooned him and kissed him on the back of the neck when they’d fallen asleep in the same bed after a party once; it was nice, like a friendly kiss, comforting, but Louis hadn’t wanted to _do_ anything with him. 

He thinks about Niall specifically then, no doubt in his crisp white bed t-shirt and tartan pyjama pants, moving about the kitchen making tea or hunched over on the couch while he plays on his phone. But the thought doesn’t do anything to him and so he continues to rake his fingers over his torso idly.

Louis pushes his mental boundaries a bit, imagining Niall in his towel like he’s seen him when he comes into the kitchen after a shower to steal Louis’ tea. Niall’s not hugely built although he’s got a nice body, tidy, proportionate, naturally a little bulky in the chest with slender limbs covered in downy blond hair. Louis’ dick still doesn’t stir.

He pushes down past his waistband and palms himself slightly, fingers reaching just to tickle himself at the tip like he likes. He adjusts his position, lifting his hips just a fraction and reaches between his legs to drag a warm hand up his whole package as his boxer briefs begin to tighten. He moves with a little more purpose now, shoving one hand into his pants and the other to thumb at his nipple.

He thinks about nothing at all as he strokes himself, controlling his breathing. He grips himself firmly around the base and toys with his foreskin before gripping himself to fuck both fists. Niall’s given up on him it seems because he can hear the DVD menu give way to the real thing and for that, Louis’ grateful, knowing all the stupid crashes and explosions will give him more leeway to make noise as he gets closer to coming.

Just for science, he imagines deliberately touching Niall, kissing his neck, squeezing his ass, but he has no point of reference, no idea what it would feel like or whether he’d like it, so he gives up quickly. He strips off his boxers clean off and rolls onto his front so he can moan soundlessly into the mattress. His mind goes to his usual jerk-off material, faceless pairs of tits, round asses. His mind goes to one of his usual wank fantasies; El with her legs spread, fingers inside herself, but now that they’re not together, it just feels weird.

He clears his head, focuses on fucking the bed, the pleasant scratch of his sheets driving him wild and he’s close, the pressure building. Quick as a flash, his mind short-circuits and he’s seeing _Jeremy_ of all people, pants around his ankles, muscular hamstrings flexing as he pounds into Niall who looks so desperate for it, so fucking _sweet_, that before he knows it, Louis’ coming, creaming his sheets with a loud whine. When his breath slows, he realises there’s absolutely no way Niall couldn’t have heard him, and his bed’s absolutely ruined but he’s too humiliated to leave his room. He needs a shower, preferably a cold one, but he can’t face Niall, not right now.

He hears the kettle boil and he’d just about kill for a tea, especially one Niall’s made for him. Louis’ heart flutters remembering that, by now, Niall will have taken out his contacts and put his glasses on. He groans softly and rolls over out of the wet patch; he feels filthy, literally and figuratively. Finally, he hears Niall’s door click shut and he sneaks out of his room into the bathroom. He stands under the spray for ages, warm water running over his face, down his chest, over his belly, washing his sins away.

**

The next morning, Louis drags himself out of bed at eleven, feeling like he hasn’t slept a wink despite sleeping like the dead. When he enters the kitchen, Niall’s sitting serenely at the table eating breakfast, reading the news on his iPad.

“Morning,” Louis grunts, avoiding eye contact. He stumbles to the bench and flicks the switch on the kettle like his life depends on it. “Ugh,” he supplies pathetically.

“Good sleep?” Niall asks, sipping his juice. Fucking Niall holds his drink like a pro and so he looks annoyingly fresh and sounds stupidly sunny this morning.

“Super,” Louis deadpans.

“There’s eggs left in the pan if you want some.”

Louis grunts, “Cheers, mate,” dishing himself up some eggs as he pours boiling water on top of his teabag.

“I feel like shit,” he winces, sitting down at the table, scrubbing his hands over his stubbly cheeks. “How much did we drink?” Louis stabs at a blob of scrambled eggs on his plate and shovels it into his mouth. “I felt fine last night.”

Niall waits a beat, staring him square in the eye before he says it. “Yeah you did.”

Louis’ blood runs cold and he purses his lips, feeling sick. “Oh god,” he puts his fork down to hide his face in his hands. “I was really _really_ hoping you didn’t hear that.”

Niall cackles and the joy in his voice already makes Louis feel calmer, “S’all good, bro. We all do it. It’s healthy!”

Louis opens his mouth to craft some sort of excuse but nothing comes. “I–”

Niall snickers again, “Really, it’s fine. I mean, it sounded _way_ better than just fine, but–”

“Niall, _please_,” Louis begs, peeking out between his fingers. His cheeks are hot and Niall is burning a hole in him with his gaze.

Niall laughs uproariously before finishing his juice and walking to the kitchen, ruffling Louis’ hair as he walks past. “Don’t be embarrassed, mate.”

When Niall’s finished doing the dishes, he rests his hands delicately on the bench top, just watching Louis where he’s hunched over the table, still aggressively stabbing at his breakfast. “What are you doing today?” Niall asks.

Louis shrugs, making a face. “I should really go into the office, I’m so behind on that analysis for the CBRE evaluation, if I don’t go, I’ll be stuck at work literally all next week.”

Niall pouts and Louis can’t help but notice that it’s pretty adorable. “Oh, sucks. Can I help?”

Louis shakes his head. “No point you ruining your weekend too. I’ll only be a few hours.”

In the end, Louis is at work all day. When he struggles in at five in the evening, Niall’s stretched out on the couch luxuriously with the footy on. “Grab a beer,” he says, sitting up to make room. “Sit down, take a load off.”

Louis smiles affectionately and dumps his keys in the bowl. He pulls a beer out of the six pack in the fridge flops down beside Niall, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

“Oi,” he says, “no more talking about my load.” Louis waits a moment before peering wickedly at Niall, who’s sitting there with his mouth hanging open, wide-eyed, before dissolving into giggles, falling backwards onto the arm of the couch.

Louis laughs with him, pleased and secretly a little impressed that he can get that reaction out of Niall. And, he’s succeeded in wringing out any lingering awkwardness about the whole thing.

“You going out tonight?” Louis asks, trying to keep his voice light, uncaring. Niall’s been out a few times since they moved in together and Louis assumes it’s to clubs, not that he’d ever be nosy enough to enquire.

“Nah,” Niall says, shuffling in his seat, getting more comfortable. “Not feeling it tonight.”

They order Thai food and Louis puts his pyjamas on before dinner, quickly developing a sleepy buzz from working all day and drinking a few beers in quick succession. It’s only early when he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Go to bed, Lou,” Niall tells him when Louis’ head lolls onto his shoulder for the third time.

“_Nnhff_,” Louis grunts, shrugging Niall off. He’s drowsy and warm and comfortable and he just wants to curl in on himself and sleep forever; dragging himself to his bedroom is far too much work. Before long, he’s well and truly asleep.

When his eyes flit open, he can tell it’s late in that abstract way, as if he can feel he’s been asleep on the couch for a while. The lights are off in the living room but the TV’s still flickering softly, the audio turned down low. He doesn’t move a muscle, just looks through the small gap in his eyelids as his eyesight adjusts.

Before he can move, Niall leans over him to reach for the remote control that’s resting on the opposite couch arm. Niall’s heavy and warm where he leans into Louis’ side and Louis’ awake suddenly, alert to the prickle of the cotton of Niall’s sweatshirt against his bare skin. Up close, Louis can smell Niall’s hair, his expensive shampoo, and his eyes flicker to Niall’s smooth skin. The thought comes unbidden, how easy it would be to lean forward an inch just to nose at Niall’s temple, to breathe him in. It’s like slow motion, Louis thinks, the way Niall turns his head sensing the whisper of Louis’ breath on his cheek, and Louis’ pulse is racing, wondering whether to make a joke or feign being asleep. Instead, Louis freezes, breath caught in his throat, and just like that, their lips are mere centimetres apart. Niall’s eyes flit down to Louis’ mouth, his own open in shock, and as Niall exhales nervously, Louis can feel the puff of air on his face. It makes him wild; a squeeze of his heart, a shock of heat in his dick. Louis doesn’t even contemplate the alternative as his hand slowly starts to come up, its destination Niall’s cheek, and Louis tracks Niall’s gaze over his face, his lips, feels himself inching forward, closer, closer, until–

As quick as it began, Niall grabs the remote off the couch arm and yanks himself away, slumping back into his own corner.

“I’m going to bed,” he says, switching off the TV with the procured remote. “You should too.” Niall jumps up, quicker than absolutely necessary Louis thinks, and then he’s gone.

Louis’ heart is still thumping in his chest when Niall’s door clicks shut. He rakes his hand through his hair, sucking in deep breaths as he tries to reset himself. It must have been the shock, he thinks, being woken up suddenly, his body just confused about what was going on. But he was already awake when Niall had crowded up to him, he’d had time to react, to move, he just hadn’t chosen to, had been intrigued by Niall, _close enough to touch–_

“Ugh,” he says out loud, flicking his hair of his forehead, lifting himself upright to drag himself to his own room. He’s exhausted and whatever this is can wait until tomorrow.

**

The next morning, Niall acts like nothing’s happened and so Louis resolves to as well.

A week later, as they’re traipsing out of the huge glass-walled conference room, Niall yanks Louis by the elbow away from the throng. When they’re alone in the hallway, he leans in conspiratorially.

“Are you busy on Saturday night?” Niall asks with a grin.

Louis starts to smile, wants to make a joke at his own expense about how his social calendar isn’t exactly packed in a new city with only a handful of friends but he thinks it might sound a little pathetic. “Sure, what have you got in mind?” he replies casually.

Niall fishes around in his back pocket. “My mate Olly bailed on me for the Camelphat show this weekend. Do you wanna come?” Niall flashes the tickets.

Louis’ feels briefly wounded that Niall didn’t think to invite him the first place but he forces himself to snap out of it; he’s becoming totally co-dependant and it can’t be healthy. “Yeah, definitely,” he replies eagerly, despite himself. He hopes Niall doesn’t see him wince at his overenthusiasm.

Niall smiles mischievously and Louis can’t read him, he never can. “Ok, then,” he says easily, shoving the tickets back in his pocket. “You’ll have to dance, though,” he adds as he walks off, giving Louis a sly wink for good measure.

Louis stumbles back to his desk-for-the-day and tries to get a handle on himself. He’s breathing quickly and he’s nervous, fingers tapping impatiently on the surface of the desk as his monitor wakes up.

Although he’s been trying not to overthink the almost-kiss, since that night on the couch, he’s come to terms with the fact his feelings for Niall aren’t purely platonic. Louis thinks guiltily about Niall’s comment about straight guys flirting with him but then Louis’ had no indication that Niall might like him that way at all. It’s confusing and if he’s honest, he feels a bit uneasy about the fact he’s so fixated on Niall just because he’s cute, flirty and approachable. He swishes his mouse around aggressively as the little circle symbol on his screen tells him to be patient. He sighs. He’s just going to try harder to keep it all to the back of his mind.

**

Saturday night rolls around and Louis’ been jumping out of his skin all day with anticipation. Despite the uncertainty about the Niall situation. it’s been ages since he’s gone out properly, and Louis realises how much he’s missed it as they head down to the stairs to the driving beat of the club’s music.

The club is underground, a bunker really, and the heat hits Louis immediately. It’s dark inside but the exposed concrete of the walls and ceiling is reflected by a neon light that threads it way along the pipes in the ceiling, casting the whole place in an energetic red glow. There’s a bar at one end and a basic platform at the other where the decks are set up. It smells like booze and people and fun and Louis’ pumped already. He looks to his side and Niall grins at him; he’s wearing a white linen shirt, open at the collar, sleeves rolled up and his cheeks are flushed already. Louis has to swallow down the urge to reach out and touch him.

“Drink?” Niall leans in to yell in his ear, and Louis nods enthusiastically.

It’s still early, the openers haven’t started yet, so Niall returns quickly with two beers and two bottles of water.

“Smart,” Louis says, smiling at him as he swigs his beer and shoves the water in his back pocket.

Louis finds them a quietish corner up against a pillar. “Thanks for asking me to come,” he says, feigning calm as he drinks his beer too quickly.

Niall shrugs coyly and Louis wonders if Niall feels the buzzing heat between them or if Louis’ just mistaking his own delirious overthinking for sexual tension. Niall continues to smile at him, never breaking eye contact, and Louis feels his cheeks burn with Niall’s eyes on him. He takes another nervous sip of his beer before he’s saved by the lights dimming. The opening act walks to the decks amongst raucous applause and shouts from the crowd and only then does Louis take a breath.

They stand securely against the expanse of the pillar, the concrete pleasantly cool as the club heats up. For lack of anything better to do with his twitchy hands, Louis takes his water out of his pocket and starts chugging that too. Niall’s standing off to his side, gently bobbing his head in time to the music. Louis sneaks a glance and Niall has the same wry smile on his face as he had before. Niall’s eyes are fixed on the stage so Louis steals a moment to look. Niall has a thin sheen of sweat down his neck and Louis’ eyes follow the flush where it begins on his cheeks, down his throat to where it sneaks beneath the buttons of his shirt. The white fabric gleams in the low red light and Louis thinks it makes him look like angel and devil in one. He downs the remainder of his water, shoving the empty bottle back in his pocket, and nudges Niall. “I’m going to get another beer, you want?”

Niall looks down at his own bottle, only half-drunk and he pauses, as if contemplating.

“I have a better idea, come on.” He tugs Louis by the elbow and Louis’ skin tingles where Niall’s touching him.

Niall’s hand travels from his elbow to his wrist as he tugs Louis through the increasingly crowded club to a hallway that leads to the restrooms. Niall comes to a sudden halt and Louis crashes into him, crowding him up against the wall.

“Easy there, tiger,” Niall says, laughing at Louis’ expense and Louis rolls his eyes, stepping back just a little.

Niall looks around to make sure they’re not being watched before he digs around in his wallet. Louis watches Niall’s hands as they rifle through it and he can’t help but blush when he spies a spare condom in one of the pockets. Finally, Niall pulls out a little folded baggie with a flourish; inside are two little pink pills with the Chanel logo printed on them. “Keen?” Niall asks, eyes dark and challenging.

Louis gulps, his mouth suddenly dry. It’s been ages since he’s partied under the influence but fuck, does he want to tonight. Tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth, he takes the tabs out of Niall’s hand to eye them closely. “These good?” he asks warily, his eyes flicking from the pills to Niall’s face but honestly he’s already sold.

“The best.” Niall wiggles his eyebrows. There’s a pause and he adds softly, “You trust me, don’t you?”

Louis swallows hard as he stares into Niall’s eyes; he trusts Niall if he says they’re good, but he’s more worried about what he might do. He licks his lips nervously, not breaking Niall’s gaze. “Just not sure if I trust myself.”

Niall huffs out a breathy little laugh and Louis almost melts, it’s so totally charming. Niall leans in until their faces are close. “Don’t worry babe, I’ll look after you.”

Louis tugs the snap-lock bag open and shakes the pills into his palm. “Now?”

Niall nods and rolls his shoulders, releasing non-existent tension before he opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue.

Louis feels a shock of warmth in his groin and the surprise must show on his face because Niall wiggles his eyebrows and says, “Don’t leave a guy hangin’!” He sticks out his tongue again and Louis doesn’t need to be told twice, placing the tab gently on Niall’s tongue.

Niall draws the pill into his mouth slowly, eyes burning into Louis as if he knows how much it’s driving Louis crazy. “C’mon.” Niall jumps a little on the spot in anticipation as Louis lifts his palm to tip the other pill into his mouth.

Niall claps his hands gleefully and drags Louis into the gents to fill up his water bottle. Niall’s jumping out of his skin now, shaking out his limbs and jumping up and down on the spot with anticipation.

“Calm down,” Louis laughs, screwing the cap of his bottle back on.

“I wanna dance!” Niall cries, wrapping his arms around Louis’ back and there’s no way he’s feeling it yet. Louis blushes at the feeling and turns around in Niall’s arms, unwrapping them to get free, despite his strongest instincts.

Niall leads them back out on the dancefloor and Louis’ shocked to notice the crowd has almost doubled, the room groaning under the mass of bodies writhing to the restless beats.

Niall pulls him in so they’re dancing at a respectable distance but it’s not long before the crush of the crowd pushes them closer and their legs knock together as they move. Louis can’t tell if Niall’s particularly attuned to the effects of the pills or if he’s just high on music and fun but he laughs watching him as he flings his arms in the air, screams soundlessly at strangers and moves his hips in a way that forces Louis to avert his eyes.

When the Camelphat boys take the stage, Louis’ singlet is drenched and Niall looks about five minutes away from ditching his shirt completely, sweaty and giggling with simmering excitement. 

When the beat of the first cut pumps out of the speakers, Niall cheers with abandon and Louis looks over at him. The look on his face is blissful, joyous and carefree in a way Louis’ come to recognise is all Niall’s own, even without the influence of artificial substances. Louis can feel his own high hitting, the tell-tale thrum of the molly as it disperses through his system, warming him up from fingers to toes. Then, the song changes to a deep groove, sultry and dark with a powerful beat that Louis feels deep in his veins.

“Fuck,” Niall mutters, eyelashes fluttering and Louis’ overcome with how beautiful he looks; features happy and soft, skin dewy and beckoning, and Louis wants to put his mouth on his neck and run a hand under his shirt and it’s pure torture using the smallest amount of self-control he has left.

Thankfully, Niall doesn’t appear to have any at all. “This song, man,” he says breathily, eyes bright and euphoric, draping a heavy arm over Louis’ shoulder, the other snaking around his waist. Louis’ breath catches in his throat as Niall breathes into his hair, “Niall–” he starts, no clue of what he’s going to say, but Niall interrupts him.

“Dance with me, Lou,” he murmurs and Louis fancies he can feel the way Niall’s vocal chords vibrate they’re standing that close.

Louis’ well and truly feeling the effects now as his brain dismisses all vestiges of worry, letting him focus single-mindedly on the heat of the club, the pulse of the music and Niall’s body, solid and hot and moving with abandon. He lifts his arm in the air, the flood of warmth through his body feels like absolution. The song changes again and this song is more determined now, a driving beat building to a spine-tingling climax that makes Louis wonder if he could just fall into it, down, down into a pit of deepest satisfaction. Despite his elation, he’s not failed to notice Niall’s grinding his hips into Louis’ thigh, arms are looped around his neck, and it’s all Louis can do to not press their chests together so they can dissolve together into a fizzing ball of heat, like an imploding star.

“_Lou_,” Niall pants, palming at Louis’ neck, grinding deeper until their hips are almost pressed flush and Louis’ overcome with the pleading tone of Niall’s voice, falling forward to press their foreheads together. Louis’ breathing heavily as he pulls Niall’s hand from where it’s gripping his neckand interlaces their fingers loosely. Niall places his other hand on Louis’ ribs where the arm hole of his shirt hangs low and Louis’ skin sings where Niall’s fingertips touch him. His eyes rake down Niall’s chest to below his belt and Louis laughs euphorically before he can catch himself because Niall’s hard, dick pinned by the denim of his skinny jeans. Niall notices Louis’s transfixed gaze and lets his head fall into the crook of Louis’ neck, laughing breathlessly.

“Do you wanna get some air?” Niall whispers in Louis’ ear. Louis nods enthusiastically, leading him by the hand out the back door.

They separate when they spill out onto the street, laughing maniacally as the cool air sends sparkles across their skin. Louis jumps from foot-to-foot down the cobbled lane and Niall follows, cheering him on gleefully.

“Fuck,” Niall sighs again when they stop further down the dark alleyway and Louis’ spins around to stare at him. He’s mid-laugh, cheeks rosy and teeth showing, his posture loose and comfortable, and Louis’ heart’s so full of affection and his dick’s so full of blood, he just wants to crowd Niall into the doorway and put his mouth onto his skin.

So that’s exactly what he does, taking a couple of determined strides forward until he’s shoved them into a doorway and they’re hidden from view by the blackness of the night.

“Fuck,” Niall repeats, voice stuck in his throat as Louis mouths at his neck, hands planted on his ass, and grinds their hips together.

“Ni,” Louis mumbles into his neck, pushing his hands down further to grip at the backs of Niall’s thighs.

Niall groans and pushes one hand up Louis’ shirt, the other up to tug at his hair. They don’t kiss, Louis’ face pressed into Niall’s neck, and Niall’s panting hotly as Louis licks at his skin. Louis grinds his hips up with such speed and intensity that it almost hurts but Niall’s little whines are making him hotter, spurring him on. Niall’s hands drift up Louis’ sides and back, their heat sending little zings of electricity up Louis’ spine. All Louis wants is to strip him naked and get his mouth on him, make him moan loud enough the entire club can hear them, even though it’s nothing he’s ever done–or even wanted–before.

Louis yanks his head out of the crook of Niall’s neck and presses their foreheads together once more and pants into his mouth. What are we doing?” he asks, thankful that they’re so close he can’t see the Niall’s expression.

Niall doesn’t answer, just slides a hand down to Louis’ belt, making short work of his buckle and sliding his hand beneath the material.

Louis gasps when Niall gets a hand on him, his grip hot and firm, not hesitating as he works Louis over, still in his pants. Not to be outdone, Louis swallows his nerves to palm at Niall’s dick through his jeans. The way Niall’s whole body responds makes Louis run hot from the tips of his toes to the apples of his cheeks.

Niall whines again, a desperate breath of a sound, desperately pressing his hips into Louis’ palm and Louis just goes for it, unbuttoning Niall’s jeans and yanking them down under his ass. Finally getting a hand on him, Louis’ amazed how Niall can feel so hard but so velvety soft at the same time.

It's hard to focus on Niall's dick with Niall hand on his own, and it's all Louis can do to stroke clumsily as his breathing becomes urgent. Niall works him over with an expert touch, the pressure building until Louis comes with a low growl, the sound muffled as he presses his mouth to Niall’s meaty shoulder. The feeling is incredible, lighting him up like his body is bursting into sunshine.

He moves his hands to Niall’s shoulders to hold on for dear life, panting wordlessly into Niall’s hairline. It’s messy; wet and hot, but Louis doesn’t care, grinding into Niall’s hand, completely shameless, spent. He’s had sex high once before but it was nothing like this; it feels like Niall’s wrung the orgasm out of him in the most exquisite way and his bones feel like they’re made of lava, loose and languid, as he slumps into Niall like a dead weight.

“Holy fucking shit,” he whimpers, refusing to move lest the moment be over, but he needn’t worry because Niall’s wipes his hand hurriedly on the brick wall beside Louis’ head and gets a hand on himself. Louis wants to get involved, wants to be the one to make him come, but he doesn’t know how, his limbs heavy and hands uncoordinated, brain completely overcome by Niall’s persistent little moans. Before he can organise himself enough to contribute, Niall comes with a gorgeous gasp. Even having sex, Niall’s so tidy, gripping himself so Louis can’t see anything, but he’s fascinated by Niall’s face, the soft cut of his jaw, the flutter of his eyelashes, the way his lips, pink and parted, puff out intense little breaths.

Breaking from his fugue, Louis comes to, tucking himself in and reaching a tentative hand to stroke at Niall’s upper arm as his breathing returns to normal. Niall tips his head sideways with exhaustion and Louis stares at his profile, mouth upturned into a small smile as he blisses out. It’s probably only been a couple of minutes since they left the club, but Louis feels his world shift in a way where he knows things will be different past tonight, it’s just that he can’t bring himself to care.

**

The next morning, Louis’ feeling the effects of his come-down and the consequences of his decisions; the sun’s streaming in through his window but he feels cold, twitchy and irritable. When his head hit the pillow the night before, he swore to himself he wouldn’t freak out, but in the cold light of day he doesn’t know how to overcome the unique awkwardness of getting jerked off in an alleyway by your flatmate while high. More nagging than his guilt though is his desperate thirst and, like a true economist, he’s soon weighing up the cost-benefit ratio of stealing some of Niall’s juice. When he can’t handle it anymore, Louis creeps to the kitchen, stealthily cracks the seal on the fridge door and downs half the bottle in a couple of gulps.

“Mate, how could you?” comes the voice from behind him. _Shit_, Louis thinks; he’s so busted and worse still, he has no idea how Niall’s going to approach things after last night.

“I told you,” Niall continues, “the only rule is don’t steal my food!” Louis’ relieved to see he’s smiling, upbeat despite his dishevelled appearance, hair floppy and askew, so Louis’ not too worried about the consequences of being branded a juice-thief. He attempts a half-smile but it mustn’t quite reach his eyes because Niall’s smile fades and he wanders cautiously into the kitchen. He leans against the benchtop, arms folded across his chest and gives Louis a deliberate look.

If Louis hoped his budding feelings for Niall would resolve after getting it out of his system, he’s sorely mistaken because Niall’s wearing his stupid white t-shirt again and with his sweet features and bemused expression, Louis thinks he looks just as lovely as ever.

Louis licks his lips nervously and exhales. “Should we talk about what happened last night?”

Niall recoils and his face twists in a grimace. “Do you want to move out, is that it?”

Louis hesitates; like an idiot, he’s still standing half in the fridge. He shuts it hastily and the sound of the rattling contents inside breaks the heavy silence in the room. He swallows uncomfortably and raises his gaze to look Niall square in the eye. “No–not at all,” he starts, and Niall’s body language relaxes, “but–”

Niall smiles bright, the 1000-watt smile that Louis loves, albeit a sleepy version. “Nothing to worry about then,” he interjects, giving Louis a cheerful tap on the shoulder. Niall’s gaze rakes up and down Louis’s body and Louis doesn’t fail to notice, his heart beating just a little faster. Louis moves to speak again but as if reading his mind, Niall cuts him off, “It’s better if we don’t.”

Louis opens his mouth to speak but he has no words to explain the roiling unease in his gut.

“Forget about it, ok?” Niall adds gently, eyes full of regret, before disappearing back into his bedroom, the door shutting with a click.

**

On Thursday, they go to lunch with clients, a great slap-up meal at a trendy steakhouse. Niall holds court with the group, all eyes on him. After their mains are served and they’re already up to their second bottle, Niall has the senior partner’s slapping the table with raucous laughter and one of the junior partners blushing every time Niall makes eye contact. Although Louis was in good form at the start, holding his own making polite conversation with the contract manager, by dessert he’s finding himself getting more and more irritated, poking at his chocolate mousse passive-aggressively. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, after all he’s always loved Niall’s ease and gregariousness but today he wants to be anywhere else and the wine is giving him a headache.

“Are you alright, Louis?” the contract manager, Helen, asks. She’s a woman of around fifty whose bright yellow blazer clashes with her vibrant red hair. She’s been kind to Louis all afternoon, asking about his and Niall’s working relationship, charmed to hear they lived together too.

Louis sighs uncomfortably, squeezing his eyes together. “Yeah, just developing a migraine, I think.”

She smiles sympathetically and places a hand on his forearm in a motherly way. “Why don’t you head home, love? We’re just about wrapping up here.”

The way Niall and the senior partner, Richard, are getting along makes Louis think they’ve got at least another couple of hours of drinking and banter in them. Louis’ stomach clenches painfully and he knows it’s unprofessional but he just can’t bear it any longer.

He stands, pushing his chair back. “I’m really sorry everybody, I’m not feeling very well so I’m going to head off. It’s been a great afternoon and I know you’ll be more than safe in Niall’s capable company.” He flashes Niall a smile that he hopes is conciliatory hoping for at least one in return, but Niall just looks back at him, face unreadable.

Helen nods at him warmly and Richard barely bats an eye, nodding politely before returning his attention to Niall. The junior partner, Dean or Dan or something, has the gall to look at Louis guiltily and it makes Louis feel worse. Louis can see Niall looking like he’s about to rise to his feet but Louis avoids his eyes, just grabs his coat off the back of his chair and scampering out.

Louis calls the office as he walks home briskly, telling Jeremy he’s been taken ill but Niall’s still at the restaurant so not to worry. When he gets home, Louis throws himself onto the couch dramatically. He feels hot, tipsy, confused, _angry_ for a reason he can’t fathom. He curls in on himself, still in his shirt and tie, and closes his eyes, willing his mind to rest.

When Niall storms in, waking him, Louis feels awful; mouth cottony and a little sheepish about his dramatic exit. He sits up on the couch and rubs his eyes blearily, looking around, noticing it’s barely been an hour since he got in. Niall dumps his stuff without any of his usual care for his things and comes to stand in front of him.

“What the fuck was that?” Niall asks, his voice sharp, lips pursed into an unfamiliar expression—one Louis’ never seen on him before.

“Huh?” Louis asks stupidly, looking up at him, loosening his tie where it’s threatening to choke him.

Niall puts his hands on his hips. “You just _left_ me there!”

Louis’ dumbfounded; Niall got enough social skills to entertain a group twice that size. “What are you talking about?” He’s getting defensive, the anger rising in his chest, but he still can’t understand what Niall’s so upset about.

Niall’s cheeks are red and he’s chewing at his lip; Louis’ never seen him like this before. But he doesn’t respond, and Louis doesn’t feel up to dealing with this—whatever it is.

Louis shakes his head and rises off the couch to get to the kitchen, desperate for a drink. He yanks a bottle of water from the fridge, chugs half of it in one go, and holds the rest to his head, the cool doing wonders for the pulsing at his temples. Niall follows him and leans against the benchtop, arms folded and lips pursed, as if he’s trying to stop himself saying something.

“You just bailed,” Niall says finally, as if that clears up anything, and Louis feels his irrational anger returning.

“I was there until after dessert! Don’t you think you’re being a little sensitive?” Louis says, working to keep his voice calm. Niall was his usual happy self all afternoon, in his element being the centre of attention.

Niall stands up straight, insistent, refusing to back down. “It was… unprofessional,” he finishes lamely.

It’s enough to push Louis over the edge, anger flaring and bile rising in his throat. “Unprofessional?” he snorts incredulously, “I wasn’t the one _throwing_ myself at every guy at the table!”

Louis regrets his words as soon as they come out of his mouth and he steps forward placatingly, lips framed in an apology but Niall’s having none of it, striking back just as fiercely. “That’s what you think I was doing?” he spits, “Go fuck yourself, Lou.”

Louis’ mouth goes dry as Niall’s words hit him like a truck, “Niall, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–” he reaches for Niall’s arm but Niall shakes him off. Niall stomps to the edge of the kitchen before rounding back on Louis, shoulders hunched in determination.

“You think I didn’t see you watching me?” Niall hisses, voice biting. “Migraine, my arse. You just couldn’t handle–”

“Niall, don’t,” Louis interjects, his voice pleading. He already feels like he can’t breathe, his lungs being squeezed by an unknown force and he doesn’t think he can bear what Niall might say next.

Niall shakes his head, voice menacing. “You wanted to talk about this? Let’s talk, Lou, come on.” To Louis’ enormous surprise, Niall shoves him at the shoulder, forcing him back against the fridge. Louis fish-mouths desperately as Niall leans in close, eyes steely and fixed, until they’re almost nose to nose. Eyes dark, Niall looks him up and down, not even bothering to hide it. “Let’s talk about how you just didn’t like seeing anyone else getting my attention.”

Louis feels his knees buckle. If there was any question over how fucking transparent his feelings were, the thin veneer of deniability he’d kept up is all but gone. “Why are you doing this?” Louis pleads, staring forlornly at his feet, and his stupid brain can’t even work out whether he wants Niall to back off or crush their bodies together.

“I’m not _doing_ anything,” Niall replies, voice soft now, reaching out a tentative arm to comfort Louis, placing a warm hand over his chest.

Something in Louis flips like a switch and quick as a whip, he bounds up, twisting Niall around in his arms and pinning him to the fridge, pressing himself forcefully into Niall’s back. He’s already so hard, practically blinded by the rush of blood away from his brain, totally consumed by how much he wants to touch, to fuck, to just stop worrying and let himself have it, make Niall his.

“God, I want you so bad,” Louis whispers hoarsely, bending his neck to press his sweaty forehead to Niall’s collar, acquiescent. Niall responds with a whine, arching his back so the soft flesh of his arse grinds up on Louis’ dick. Emboldened by Niall’s enthusiasm, Louis snatches Niall’s hands to place them flush against the cool metal of the fridge and grips at Niall’s hips, his own snapping up frantically to grind between Niall’s cheeks. Louis mouths at his neck and Niall leans his head back to give him access. Louis already feels he’s not going to last long, his senses overwhelmed by the feel of Niall’s body beneath his, his scent, the sounds of their panting breaking the silence of their quiet apartment.

Louis holds Niall to him firmly but tenderly, an arm draped over Niall’s collarbones to give himself leverage. Niall lowers his hands from the fridge to unbutton his trousers, movements rushed and desperate, but Louis swats his hands away, tearing down Niall’s pants and jocks one-handed before gripping him tightly. “I’ve got you,” Louis says directly into Niall’s ear and Niall mewls with pleasure as Louis strokes him in time with his own thrusts.

Niall holds Louis to him with a firm hand on his thigh, leaning most of his weight against Louis as he brings them both towards the edge. Louis’ still entirely clothed, Niall only slightly less so and Louis would like nothing more than to do this skin to skin but he’s too impatient, weeks of pent-up desire making him desperate, making them fuck against their fucking fridge. It was like that night at the club broke the seal and Louis’ wanted nothing else since.

“Gonna come,” Niall mumbles, fingers squeezing Louis’ hip. Niall gasps and a hot gush of come spills over Louis’ fist and the feeling alone is enough for Louis himself to burst like a dam, soaking the inside of his jocks, absolutely ruining the front of his suit pants. Legless and addled, Louis acts on instinct, smearing Niall’s come up his chest under his shirt and rotating his hips in little circles so Niall can feel the cooling damp against his bare arse. “You’re so fucking hot,” Louis whispers, voice wrecked, sucking a bruise into Niall’s neck.

Niall doesn’t say anything, breathing heavily until Louis’ licks and kisses give way to nothing and he rests his head on Niall’s shoulder before murmuring, “Holy shit.”

Niall chuckles gently, pulling his trousers back up to cover his nakedness. Louis’ still holding him around the middle and he has to wriggle to extricate himself enough to turn around in Louis’ arms. Louis feels like he’s been through the ringer, physically and emotionally, he can feel his hair sticking to his forehead, and his body feels weak, and he’s barely standing up but he can’t fathom moving. He puts all his energy into giving Niall what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Hey,” he says warmly, reaching a hand to trace a thumb over Niall’s cheekbone. It’s a gentle touch, nothing much to it, but Niall goes stock still, their eyes locked.

Before he knows it Louis’ leaning in, hand travelling up to rake his fingers through Niall’s hair, eyes fixed on Niall’s lips, red and inviting. But before he can seal their lips together, something catches in Niall’s throat and he utters a timid squeak, fracturing the moment entirely. “I better get cleaned up,” he says, excusing himself from Louis’ hold and darting out of the room.

Louis watches him go, arm still raised in the air foolishly where it held Niall’s face. He drops it to his side with a sigh before leaning forward to press his burning forehead to the cool metal of the fridge.

**

A few days later, Louis receives an envelope at work addressed to him from Helen. He looks around, sceptical, as he opens it; inside are two passes, lanyards attached, and a note inviting him and Niall to the footy in their client’s corporate box. He reads the note, licks his lips and smiles nervously before scrunching it up and shoving it in his pocket.

Since that afternoon, there’s been no awkwardness, no drama, things have been refreshingly normal. But at the same time, Louis’ lowkey disappointed because really, nothing’s changed and he’d expected, _hoped_, they would. He’s not tried to initiate any kind of conversation, any kind of touch that’s more than friendly, tried to let things be easy, but there’s a nagging voice in his head and it’s getting increasingly loud. He can’t stop thinking about how Niall deliberately avoided being kissed and despite trying to be chill, it still hurts. 

“Hey Niall,” Louis wanders over to where Niall’s talking to one of his team members, “got these in the mail from Helen at CBRE,” he slides the passes against each other, pretending to look at them curiously, “corporate passes to…” he peers closely at them theatrically, “Richmond versus Collingwood? This weekend?” He looks up to see Niall’s elated face, before smiling wickedly.

“For real?” Niall says, eyes bright, 1000-watt smile beaming. He bounds over to tear them from Louis’ hands, reading over them before throwing his arms around Louis’ neck. “Fuck yes!”

“I know you think our corporate boxes are shit,” Louis says fondly, rubbing his back in a way he thinks is innocent but that he never would have second-guessed a few months ago.

“So shit,” Niall sighs breathlessly, “full of this riff-raff,” he gestures to their co-workers who are looking on with envy.

That Friday night, they head to the game, Niall positively bursting with joy as they pass through what feels like a million layers of security to make it to the box. Despite months of indoctrination, Louis’ failed to be converted to a true AFL fan but Niall’s a born-and-bred Richmond supporter so he’s ridiculously excited and Louis can’t help but think it’s pretty adorable.

Niall settles them into their seats, stupid black and yellow Tigers scarf around his neck. The box is pretty spectacular, Louis has to admit, there’s an inside part, carpeted, with a private bar where bigwigs can ply clients with fancy booze and hors d’oeuvres. But it’s the outside part that’s awesome, seats set in pairs in the open air where the view is unparalleled and they can hear the roar of the crowd.

“What can I get you gents?” the waiter asks and Niall looks like he’s died and gone to heaven.

When Niall’s ordered half the menu and is nursing a craft beer, Louis takes a moment to just enjoy the atmosphere. He knows now isn’t the time to make any kind of overture, but he’s content just to enjoy Niall being so happy.

Making lightening progress on a bowl of potato wedges, Niall attempts to school Louis on the finer points of the game for what’s probably the fiftieth time.

“Ok,” Louis says, “but like, why do you get points for trying? Shouldn’t you only get points for an actual goal?” It’s not like he actually gives two shits about any of this but the way Niall gets so earnest is completely endearing.

Niall sighs exasperatedly. “Yeah but no one wins games on points, points just accentuate a leading team’s advantage, so you look at the entirety of the score split and you see the more skilled team.”

Louis plays dumb. “So… is the team with more goals and fewer behinds but less _overall_ points more skilled? Or is it the team that just has the highest score overall?”

Niall opens his mouth to reply, but eyeing Louis’ mischievous expression, frowns before looking outraged. “You’re making fun of me, you dick!” He punches Louis in the arm.

“Ow,” Louis cries, laughing, rubbing the spot on his skinny arm where Niall’s fist has connected. “I’m not, I promise. Just friendly rivalry between codes.” Niall looks at him suspiciously, face caught between laughter and scorn and _god_, Louis thinks, it’s so cute.

Niall scowls. “If you think I’m coming to a rugby league game, you’re sorely mistaken, mate.”

Louis gives him a playful shove before slinging an arm around Niall’s shoulders. As soon as he does, Niall freezes. “Uh,” Niall begins hopelessly and Louis’ heart sinks. “I better head to the gents before the second quarter.” Louis’ heart lands with a thud as quickly as it soared.

Louis struggles through the rest of the game; it’s torture the way Niall’s arm feels pressed against his, so close yet so far. The monster in his belly wants him to drag Niall into his lap and grind up into him and shove his tongue down Niall’s throat, but his hopeful heart wants to give Niall space to work things out, even if it takes forever. His rational brain, the one that’s logical, analytical, sits somewhere in the middle, trying to think of ways to let Niall know what he wants without spooking him. He barely looks up when Richmond scores and Niall jumps to his feet to cheer.

After for long quarters, once home, Louis washes his face and puts on his pyjamas, he thinks about the awkward position he’s found himself in. He and Niall are at some sort of impasse; right now, they’re friendly and comfortable, but Louis knows it’s a precarious position that won’t last. It’s not that he doesn’t want things to go further, replicate the two mind-blowing moments that they’ve already had but he’s feeling increasingly uncomfortable about the way Niall is refusing to talk about what they’re doing.

On one hand, Louis wants to get it all out in the open–be clear what they might mean to one another–but on the other, he’s afraid of what Niall might say. He’s thought about it properly and realises that, even though they’re clearly drawn to one another, he’d be disappointed if Niall wanted to stop, and if he’s _really_ honest with himself, he wants a lot more than what they’ve been doing so far. In their quiet moments, eating lunch together at work, chilling at home on the couch, Louis thinks about how easy it would be to turn those comfortable domestic–but platonic–moments into something more with a few sweet words and some gentle touches. He’s not thought of the practicalities of being in an actual relationship with Niall; telling his family, their workmates, completely ignoring the fact that they’d still be living together, but it doesn’t seem that daunting because it’s just _Niall_, easy, breezy, lovely Niall. He can imagine doing everything they already do but with those extra things, waking up together, getting to pull Niall close on the couch, nuzzling his hair, not to mention getting to have fucking incredible sex guilt-free, preferably in every room of the house. It’s fanciful and way more sappy than any other romantic fantasies Louis’ ever indulged, but it’s a nice dream anyway.

Louis rakes his hand through his hair to ensure he looks his best before heading out into the living room. It’s not for any ulterior motive, after all he wants to do the right thing and not do anything physical before having _the talk_, but he figures it can’t hurt if he makes himself as appealing as possible.

Niall’s sitting on the couch browsing on his phone as the TV flickers in the background at low volume. As he leans over, a lock of hair falls into his eyes and he reaches unconsciously to brush it away. He must read something disagreeable too because he scrunches his nose, gripping the cushion he’s holding a little tighter. It’s a harmless gesture but it’s cute, and Louis just stares from the doorway, arms folded and a bemused smile plastered on his face, determined not to interrupt so he can watch him a little longer. Something must stir him because Niall looks up from his phone screen to where Louis’ standing and Niall throws him a soft smile, eyes warm, his hair still falling gently across his forehead.

In that moment, something weird happens inside Louis’ chest, like a hiccup of his whole heart, a clench and then a release. For a second, it’s like he’s being choked but then there’s this satisfying flood of affection and warmth. The juxtaposition is startling, like being pushed and pulled at the same time. For a mystifying second, Louis feels upended before his stupid brain connects; it feels like _falling_, and for the first time in his life, he understands the expression. Fuck–he’s in _love_.

Louis takes a second to take it all in. On one hand, it’s mind-blowing, he’s in love with a guy for fuck’s sake, but on the other it’s not remotely surprising at all, as if these feelings have been building progressively to the only logical conclusion since the very first moment they met.

He wanders over to plonk himself down besides Niall, taking the risk of shoving his cold toes under Niall’s thigh; Niall huffs and rolls his eyes but he doesn’t seek to move.

Louis pulls out his phone. _Mate, any chance you’ve got a work trip coming up to Melb? Pay your old mate Tommo a visit?_

All the way across states, Liam replies instantly, _Not til next month… y? _

Louis’ fingers pause on the keys, unsure how to phrase his unique predicament. _Might need your help in matters of the heart… _

There’s a brief wait until Liam replies, _what r u talking about? _

Louis sighs; Liam’s a good friend and a serial romantic but he’s no genius. _I miss ya_, Louis sends, before adding, _And I need relationship advice._

_Ha! If u have girl trouble, Payno to the rescue_, Liam texts back, adding a few bicep emojis for good measure.

Louis smiles to himself, rolling his eyes at his own predicament. _Yeah, something like that. _

_**_

Liam cracks his knuckles as he and Louis sit across from one another over beers.

“The fuck have you been doing? You look massive,” Louis says disdainfully; he’s not one for enormous muscles, he thinks, before balking at the fact he’s apparently the kind of guy that has a type now.

Liam shrugs, he’s chewing gum obnoxiously, eyes flashing. “Working out. You should try it. The ladies fucking love it, mate.”

Louis rolls his eyes, a little sheepish. It’s the perfect segue into his current predicament and Liam jumps at it. “Speaking of ladies…” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Louis takes a hasty swig of his beer. “Yeah, that.”

Liam snorts. “Yeah, that?” he quotes. “You called, I’m here.” He pats his chest lightly as if there should be an insignia emblazoned on the front–Liam Payne, _Romance-man_. “Love is my superpower,” he announces.

“Please never say that ever again,” Louis deadpans, although it’s true. Liam’s been in relationships pretty much constantly since high school. Not all his relationships are romantic, some have been just physical, and he’s been single, but always, _always_ ready to mingle. Amongst all the love and a bit of heartache, he’s actually learned a few things.

Liam shrugs. “C’mon, spill.” His big brown eyes look up expectantly and all of a sudden Louis has no idea how to broach things.

“So, you know Niall, right?” Louis begins delicately. Liam’s aware Niall and Louis are friendly but Louis’ been careful about giving too much away, at least until now. 

Liam looks confused for a split-second, his brow furrowing a fraction, not understanding the relevance before relaxing. “Yeah,” he acknowledges, his face unreadable.

Louis swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down; he’s just going to have to come out with it. “I think…” Louis begins, pausing, “no, I’m pretty sure that I, uh… like him.”

Liam stares at him like he’s lost his faculties. “You like him,” Liam repeats as if Louis meant to say something else. Liam’s calm but Louis’ pretty sure Liam has no idea what he’s talking about. “Wait, what?” Liam tacks on.

Louis fidgets in his seat, eyes shifty. “Like, I’m into him.” He makes an exasperated hand gesture, willing Liam to understand his meaning.

A look of comprehension finally comes over Liam’s face but he quickly schools it into a neutral expression despite turning a vibrant shade of pink. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Louis’ dying waiting for him to just say something so he doesn’t feel so on edge. “Say something,” Louis insists.

Liam leans back in his chair with a sigh and taps his fingers lightly on the table. “Nah man, like, I’m not freaking out or anything…” he gives Louis a brief smile, “I’m just thinking. Maybe you should start at the beginning, so I can get my head around this?” Liam mightn’t be freaking out, that much might be true, but he’s not exactly being chill about it either, Louis thinks miserably.

“I dunno man.” Louis rakes his hand through his hair. “It just sorta happened, like it wasn’t any one thing. We just get along really well, he’s a good mate, and like, the rest of it…” he trails off.

Liam folds his arms but it’s not confrontational, more like he’s settling in for a long chat.

“So you have like, actual feelings for him?” Liam asks.

Louis nods once and brings his hands to his face to rub his cheeks.

A small smile turns up the corners of Liam’s mouth. “And you wanna bang him?”

Louis licks his lips nervously and nods again. “Not in so many words,” he adds darkly, “but... yeah, that too.”

Liam laughs warmly. “S’all good, s’all good, bro.” He unfolds him arms and leans forward to pry Louis’ fingers away from his face. “Seriously, it’s cool. Payno loves love of all kinds.”

Liam grins and Louis groans. “Please don’t refer to yourself in third person.”

Liam shrugs, unflappable. “So what’s the big deal? He’s cute, you’re cute…”

Louis gives him a pointed look and Liam chuckles, eyes crinkling before he holds his palms up defensively, “I stalked him on Facebook. He’s cute.” Liam winks obnoxiously and Louis rolls his eyes.

“Only he doesn’t want a bar of it. I’ve tried to talk to him about it but he just shuts me down every time.” Louis stares forlornly into his pint glass.

Liam straightens, surprised. “Wait, so you’ve told him how you feel?”

Louis reddens, realising he’s left out a key detail. “Oh yeah, probably should have mentioned… we might’ve already hooked up?” He looks apologetically at Liam, after all it’s one thing admitting to a crush, announcing he’s begun a gay sex affair is another thing entirely.

To his credit, Liam just rolls on despite Louis’ truth-bomb. “So he’s into you too then?”

Louis grimaces. “That’s just it, I don’t know. The first time we were high, just fooling around, but the second time, it was like… wow.” Louis gulps, “Like it felt important.” His cheeks burn and Liam raises his eyebrows in shock but can’t help smiling. “I’ve tried to ask him what the fuck we’re doing but he just refuses.”

Liam looks at him uneasily, “So maybe he just wants to keep things physical? No strings attached.”

Louis puts his chin in his hand, swishing the dregs of his beer around in the glass. “Maybe but then like, why not say that? He’s not being chill about this at all.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to make things weird? Like you live together,” Liam offers.

Louis plonks down his glass and pushes it away. “They’re _already_ weird!”

Liam gives him a sympathetic look before gesturing to their glasses. “Refill?”

Louis nods grimly.

A few minutes later, Liam places another pint of frothy amber ale in front of him before sitting back down in his chair with renewed enthusiasm. “I’ve got a plan. You like him right? Want this to be an actual thing?”

Louis takes sip, licking the head off his top lip. “Yeah,” he supplies softly.

Liam beams, in his element. “Just ask him out.”

Louis looks at him like he’s grown an extra head. “Huh?”

“I’m serious, you’re obviously both emotionally stunted as fuck,”

“Oh hang on!” Louis interrupts.

Liam continues, “How would he know what you want if all you do is hang out and fuck?”

Louis goes bright red, ducking his head. “Keep it down, Jesus. We don’t… _fuck_.” He looks around suspiciously.

Liam takes a long drink, his massive chest clad in tight grey cotton, puffed out. “He won’t have the talk because it’s fucking awkward dude, it’s heavy. But catch him at lunch or something, somewhere you can cool off in case he shoots you down…” Louis feels sick at the prospect. “…Worse cast scenario, he says no but at least you know where you stand, best, and most likely he says yes and you fucking walk off into the sunset.” Liam grins and he looks way too pleased with himself.

Louis groans; it’s all way more trouble than he ever planned to get into. “But what if he says no? We work together, we _live_ together. I’ll die of embarrassment.”

Liam sighs sadly. “You said it yourself thought Tommo. Shit’s already weird. And what’s the alternative? Keep hooking up while you become more and more heartbroken?”

Louis wants to argue that he’s not _heartbroken_, he’s not _that_ invested, but realises it’d be a lie.

“At least you’d have a chance at resolving this bro. I love you, but you’ve gotten yourself into a fucking mess.” It’s not a criticism and it’s true, Louis thinks.

“Yeah, I guess.” It’s not like he’s rolling in options.

Liam smirks, and it instantly lifts the mood. “I’m right, you know I’m right.”

Louis rolls his eyes but Liam’s commitment to helping him with his love life is endearing. “Yeah, yeah.”

They sit in silence for a few before Liam pipes up again, voice gentle. “So, can I ask… are you like, gay? No judgement…you should feel like you can be like… honest with me.” Liam waves his hand around helplessly. “I’m your mate, you can tell me… if you want.”

Louis pauses, swallowing hard before smiling, eyebrows raised. “Well mate, if it wasn’t awkward before you certainly made it fucking awkward now.”

Liam looks horribly embarrassed as if he’d never expected to need to have this conversation, and Louis supposes that’s true. “Sorry dude, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want, I’m just putting in out there.”

“I know dude, it’s ok. And like, I dunno.” Louis shakes his head then raises his gaze from the table to Liam’s face to look him square in the eye. “If it’s any consolation, you do absolutely nothing for me.”

Liam plays along, looking outraged and Louis’ glad he doesn’t press the question. “What, you’re not into this?” Liam kisses a bicep for good measure and Louis makes a gagging sound.

When the laughter subsides, the awkwardness is gone. “Nah, like,” Louis says, uncharacteristically shy, “he’s just special, you know?”

Liam bites his bottom lip and Louis can see the way he’s trying to stop from smiling, dark eyes crinkling warmly, but finally he breaks. “Oh stop, it’s too cute!” Liam leans back into his chair and throws his forearm over his eyes.

“Thanks for being cool man,” Louis says quietly, offering a small smile. “It means a lot.”

Liam grins wickedly and Louis knows he’s going to say something awful before he even speaks, “Payno to the rescue _again_,” Liam announces in self-congratulation and Louis groans but Liam cuts him off, “protector of the innocent and of dudes with absolutely no game.”

“Oh, zip it will you?” Louis rolls his eyes, laughing.

Liam doubles-down, “You go get yo’ man, Tommo!’

Louis stands up and backs his chair away from the table in gest. “Nope, that’s it, I’m leaving!”

Liam laughs, reaching to grab Louis’ arm to yank him back into his chair. “Enough from you,” Liam says. “Now, let me tell you about this chick I met at the supermarket last week…”

Louis chuckles helplessly and settles in for the afternoon.

**

It takes Louis a full week to execute Liam’s plan, between trying to find the right words and the right time. Contrary to Liam’s suggestion, doing it at work feels wrong, invasive somehow, and doing it at the apartment, well… it’s way too close to home. When he finally does it, even though it’s been on his mind all week, it feels sudden. Niall’s packing up after their social footy game, laughing and joking with the guys before saying goodbye and crossing the park, back towards the tram stop, Louis in tow.

“So,” Louis begins, lips moving before he can control them, “I thought we could grab dinner sometime.”

Niall turns to look at him, expression soft and confused, because Louis’ a fucking idiot and hasn’t made it sound remotely like a date at all.

“I thought that’s what we were doing now?” Niall asks, eyebrows raised, bemused.

Louis can’t help but look uneasy, “No, I mean–” he begins but Niall suddenly looks like a deer in the headlights, his pink cheeks turning clammy and pale.

Louis stops to regather himself, to make a proper effort of this asking Niall out thing, but Niall’s already scampering away. Louis thinks back to Liam’s words, his joke about going to get his man and something clicks.

“Ni, _wait_!” he yells, and Niall spins around, shocked, as if he didn’t expect Louis to push it. “Niall!” Niall turns away and continues to walk briskly to the road.

Louis runs after him at a jog, catching up before Niall can escape, grabbing his forearm and spinning him around. Niall’s sports bag falls off his shoulder and catches around his feet. “_Hey_!” he accuses but there’s no anger, just resignation.

“I know what you’re doing,” Louis accuses, breathless. His footy boots still hang over his shoulder and he must look a wreck. “Just stop, ok?”

Niall looks like he’s about to cry, shy and cornered. He doesn’t reply, just looks at his feet.

“Please,” Louis whispers, looking Niall square in the eye. Niall still looks like he’s about to run off but he holds firm under Louis’ gaze and it makes Louis feel bold, reaching to grab Niall’s hand.

“Please,” he repeats. “I’m trying to ask you out. At least hear me out before running off.”

Niall squirms, clearly uncomfortable, looking out towards the road.

“Niall, I–”

Niall sighs loudly, “Can we at least do… whatever this is… at home?” He looks annoyed, defeated and Louis’ already wishing he’d never bloody said anything.

As soon as they get in, Louis drags Niall over to the sofa despite the fact they’re both in desperate need of a shower.

“Just let me say this and then you can… whatever,” Louis waves his hand around dismissively.

Niall looks at him weakly, “Lou, you really don’t have to do this, I–”

Louis reaches a gentle hand to place it on Niall’s bare knee. “Just listen, ok?” He takes a deep breath and begins. “I like living with you. I don’t want that to change,” he prefaces and Niall appears to calm, “but I also like the other stuff we’re doing, and I want to do it again, but like–”

“Lou, seriously, you’re–” Niall interjects, his voice wavering. He rakes a hand through his damp hair and Louis’ entranced, eyes drifting to the soft freckles on his sunburnt shoulders. Louis’ breath catches in his throat but he forges on.

“I want to do this properly though,” he adds to hammer his point home, but the colour is draining from Niall’s face and Louis’ horrified to see Niall looks a bit like he’s going to be sick.

Without warning, Niall jerks forward and stands abruptly, face red with anger. “I’m not here to be your fucking _experiment_, Louis.”

Louis jerks back as if slapped and he sits there in shock, mouth hanging open. He doesn’t know how to explain what he wants, explain how much more Niall means to him than simple curiosity.

Niall’s face falls and he wraps his arms around himself, anger’s gone as quickly as it came. He shakes his head. “I can’t–, _not again_, I won’t–”

“Just talk to me,” Louis whispers, staring up at him desperately, all his confidence being sucked into a vacuum like a black hole. All he can offer for Niall’s pain is honesty but it’s not enough, and Niall just looks at him and he looks like he’s being torn in two, unable to decide whether to stay or to go.

Then his face hardens and he stands straighter. “No, Louis,” Niall replies, voice soft but firm, cold unlike Louis’ ever heard it, “The answer is no. Just drop it, ok?”

It must only be a second but Louis thinks it feels like an hour, just staring at each other, before Niall turns on his heel and locks himself in his room.

**

The next morning, Niall’s no longer upset and Louis’ relieved. Niall makes him a cup of tea before they leave and he’s friendly around the office but he appears world-weary and Louis has to hold back from pulling him into his arms to comfort him; after all, he’s the one responsible for Niall’s unhappiness.

That evening on the couch, to Louis’ surprise, Niall sits close and with a great sigh, leans his head on Louis’ shoulder. It’s something he’s done before and Louis’s pleased, but it has new meaning now and it’s bittersweet. Without thinking, Louis stretches an arm around Niall’s shoulders and it’s a little tense but Niall’s irresistibly warm, and it’s comfortable the way they lean into each other. They sit like that in silence until the news ends and even though it’s early, Niall excuses himself with a sad smile and heads to bed.

Alone, Louis lies down, his head resting on Niall’s side of the couch. He pushes his nose into the fabric and he can smell Niall’s cologne, heady and intoxicating, masculine but soft. It’s barely eight but Louis feels his eyelids drooping, emotionally wrung-out. He wants to snuggle into the warmth Niall’s left behind, give in to his scent and just fall, fall into a deep sleep where he doesn’t have to worry about his miserable failings, whatever he’s done to make Niall not want him. He allows himself five minutes like that, face pressed into the cushion before he pulls himself together, Niall’s spot now grown cold, before trudging off to bed. Louis barely remembers falling asleep, drifting off as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Louis’ awoken with a start a few hours later, rubbing his eyes to make them focus before patting his hand about blindly to find the cause of the disturbance. His phone flashes 12 a.m. “The fuck?” he whispers to himself before pressing the answer button and flopping onto his back, forearm thrown over his eyes.

“Hey, what’s up?” he mutters sleepily before it clicks, “wait, why are you calling me?” Louis sits up abruptly, fringe falling into his eyes. “Everything ok?”

Niall doesn’t answer, just inhales and exhales. 

“Where are you?” Louis insists, mind foggy, because if Niall’s calling, he must be off somewhere, and he might be in trouble. Only, as Louis rouses, he hears the rustle of Niall’s sheets and the echo of his own voice, and it clicks; Niall’s calling him from his room next door. “Ni–” Louis begins, worried.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to wake you, I’ll let you sleep, I–” Niall rambles, breathless.

“No,” Louis interrupts, “Niall, it’s ok. Just…” Louis trails off, ineloquent in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t want Niall to hang up.

Louis can hear Niall calm and Louis settles himself back on his pillows, just listening to Niall breathe. They stay like that for a few minutes, no words spoken, a comfortable silence threading them together. Just as Louis’ eyes are closing, with the soft sound of Niall’s soft breathing in his ear, Niall pipes up again.

“Lou…” Niall whispers, barely audible, but it brings Louis to alertness once again. Louis fidgets, kicking his legs around to free them from his sheets where they pool like restraints around his ankles. He just wants to drop his phone, storm into Niall’s room and pull him into his arms, but he doesn’t, just listens to Niall’s breathing from where he’s lying mere metres away. Louis wants to say something, anything, to get Niall to keep talking but everything he can think of is stupid; inconsequential.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Niall says, his voice hoarse and crackly down the line, and it takes Louis’ breath away. The air is charged and Louis’ filled with anticipation, alone in the stifling dark of his room. Louis gulps then sighs, breath shaking as he releases it, gripping the phone in his hand tight. He squeezes his eyes together and wills his vocal chords to do their job. “Come in here. We can talk,” he chokes out after a moment.

“I _can’t_,” comes the reply and Louis feels a surge of frustration, the desire to see Niall, _touch_ him, so desperately unfulfilled it’s like physical pain. He resists the urge to throw his phone across the room.

“You _can_,” Louis says vehemently, before adding softly, “we can do whatever we want.”

“Louis,” Niall pleads again and he sounds so conflicted, voice tortured and wrought, that Louis feels like his lungs are being constricted, the air almost too thick to breathe.

“Whatever it is, we can work it out,” Louis says huskily, and it’s the first time they’ve acknowledged that even if Louis wants it to be easy, Niall can’t. “Just talk to me.”

Niall’s silent for a beat until he exhales heavily, the static loud in Louis’ ear. Niall’s breath is wracked and heavy with the tiniest tinge of a whimper and Louis’ heart is breaking for him. 

“Ni–” Louis starts weakly but he doesn’t know where to begin consoling him, after all, he’s the source of their problems. 

There’s another moment of silence then the sound of a swift shove of bedclothes. “You get me so hot,” Niall cries out, “can’t fucking sleep just thinking about you, what it’d be like if we…”, and instantly Louis’ whole body shudders involuntarily with pleasure, the conversation taking a sudden turn.

Louis’ can feel himself getting hard from the desperation in Niall’s voice and he feels guilty, as if he’s taking advantage of Niall’s frayed emotions. But he already feels like he’s standing over the edge of a precipice with gravity not in his favour; he’s come too far to back down now, and _fuck_, does he not want to. He squirms, his thighs brushing against his insistent dick, determined to draw this out as long as possible.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, turning his voice gentle and husky.

“_Mmhm_,” comes the reply and it makes Louis’ heartbeat race; he wants Niall to say things he won’t be able to take back in the morning.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

Louis hears the sheets rustle again and his imagination fills with visions of Niall, legs splayed and shameless, a hand between them, fingers gripping his dick or maybe even trailing lower. The thought makes his own dick jerk, straining against his boxers from the lack of attention.

“Just thinking about… how you sound… when you come, that first time, that fucking noise you made–got me so hard,” Niall’s voice is muffled, as if he’s dropped his phone on his pillow, head turned to whisper into it.

Louis’ own breathing hitches even though he’s still not got a hand on himself. He thinks of Niall, stark naked even though he can’t be sure he is, cheeks pink, hair mussed, eyes closed with abandon and it makes his dick pulse and his heart fucking ache.

“I was thinking about you,” Louis replies, remembering the way his orgasm had been torn from him thinking about Niall getting fucked, taking him completely by surprise. “Thought I was going crazy.”

Niall actually laughs, a thick chuckle emanating from his throat. “You’re lying.”

Something in Louis clicks then, a kind of possessive determination as if he wants to prove himself, and his hand shoots down to squeeze himself through his pants. “Fucking swear to god.”

Niall exhales, the sound vibrating like a purr, and Louis can hear the smile in his voice and it makes his heart swell. Louis wants to keep Niall talking, wonders if he could come without even really touching himself, just from hearing Niall so worked up, knowing he’s so fucking close. “I love hearing you,” Louis says, the words coming unbidden from somewhere deep down, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.”

Niall makes a squeak, then utters a deep groan and Louis’ mentally pockets the sound, reminding himself to absolutely shower Niall with compliments when–_if_–they finally do this for real. Louis’ lost to it now, hand wrapped firmly around himself, knowing that once he starts, he won’t last long. “What else?”

“When we were in the street,” Niall pants hotly, “it was mad, I was sure we were gonna get caught, but I just–didn’t care–just wanted to drop to my knees right there and get my mouth on you.”

“Oh god,” Louis replies, words more breath than speech; he’s stroking himself firmly, rotating his fist around the head, leaking enough to make the movement easy and slick. He’s not going for anything fancy, working towards the kind of orgasm that’s less a caress of pleasure and more a blunt hit, taking him out of it for a few. “Fuck yeah,” he pants inelegantly, “I want that, I want your mouth.” Niall whimpers down the line.

“Fuck, Niall,” Louis adds, saying his name with reverence. He takes a hand off himself to yank his boxers clean off and his dick throbs tenderly in protest. He’s so fucking close, lightheaded and winded from basically bolting to the finish line in a matter of minutes like a horned-up teenager.

“I’d suck you,” Niall replies immediately, his voice now a confident growl and it sends shivers down Louis’ spine. “Get you so worked up… nice and slick, until… until I’d sit down in your lap and ride you,” Niall’s spitting out words in time with his stroking, like he’s not even speaking to Louis directly, just giving himself over to his fantasies. “I’d ride you until you were begging to come… give you the fuck of your life… Fuck, you’d fill me up so good, Lou.”

Louis can feel the tell-tale twitch of his dick in his hand and pumps himself wildly even though it’s so rough it almost hurts. “Fuck–I–I’d fucking _give_ it to you,” is all he manages to grunt out before he’s coming, the orgasm hitting him like a sucker-punch, just like he predicted and it’s like he loses time, a few moments missing before he comes to. When he does, Niall’s purring down the line again, talking him through it, murmuring sweet nothings in his ear, but Louis can hear the desperate edge to his voice, as if he’s trying but failing to hold it together.

Louis rouses himself enough to urge Niall over the edge, words encouraging like a tender touch, whispering, “C’mon babe, come for me,” until Niall’s making these gorgeous little gasping sounds. Holding his breath so he doesn’t miss a moment, finally, Louis hears Niall come. As he does, he whispers Louis’ name, a breathless little _Lou_ that makes Louis’ dick twitch with renewed interest and clenches at his heart.

They breathe in sync until their breaths slow and Louis thinks it’s blissful, even though they’re apart. He thinks that if he and Niall were together, he’d push Niall’s hair back, kiss his forehead and his cheeks, whisper something sweet in his ear.

“You’re amazing, do you know that?” Louis starts, feelings again coming uncontrollably like a tap he can’t turn off, “You make me feel–”

Niall coughs, interrupting him, a curt little noise that signals dread for Louis. It’s that familiar sensation again, of having the rug torn out from under him that makes his heart lurch and his skin crawl.

“This was a mistake,” Niall says and even though Louis knew it was coming, it feels like the air’s been knocked out of him. He sits up, quick like a shot even though it makes him dizzy, because he’s angry now.

“No, don’t you do that. Niall–”

“I’m sorry Lou, we shouldn’t have done this, I was trying to–told myself I–”

Louis cuts him off clean. “No, fuck that Niall, we–” Louis rakes his fingers through his hair aggressively but there’s nothing for it. He wants Niall to want this the way he wants it but he’s not sure how much more rejection he can take.

“I should go,” Niall says softly, “let you get some sleep. Lou, I’m sorry.”

Louis clutches his phone tightly, “Don’t you fucking hang up on me, just talk to me for fuck’s sake, I’m right here!”

“I’m sorry,” Niall says and the line goes dead.

Louis throws his phone down in frustration, staring mournfully at the blackened screen. It takes him a few seconds to realise that just because Niall’s not on the end of the line, it doesn’t mean he can’t still reach him. “What the fuck, man?” he shouts through the wall, not even caring if the neighbours hear them.

Niall doesn’t reply and Louis’ hit with a surge of desperate longing; longing for real contact, genuine intimacy; for Niall to tell him what the fuck’s going on. He wants Niall so badly it hurts and the walls Niall’s putting up are adding insult to injury. Louis tears the sheets off him where they’re pooled around his shins and yanks his boxers up. He must look like shit, face blotchy, hair wild, and stomach covered in come but it’s too late to fix himself up because he’s already bounding down the hall and thumping on Niall’s door.

“Just let me in, we can talk,” he demands but there’s nothing, just silence.

“Please Niall,” he slams on the door again with his fist and it rattles in its frame but it doesn’t budge.

“No,” Niall finally responds and Louis presses his ear to the smooth wood. Niall’s voice wavers like he’s trying to sound strong but failing. Louis’ heart breaks for him as much as it does for himself, the want so palpable, the distance between them like a chasm. 

“_Please_,” Louis begs one last time, forehead leant against the door, hands bracing himself plaintively on either side of his face.

“Go to bed, Louis,” Niall says, twisting the knife, and it’s all Louis can do to keep from bursting the door down before he slinks back down the hallway, tears welling in his eyes.

**

They move around each other like ghosts for the next few weeks. For the first time in his life, Louis’ has no words to fix what’s broken between them, his words getting stuck in his throat any time he aims for anything more than useless platitudes designed to get them through the day.

Niall’s reserved at work, still laughing and joking and putting in the hard yards but it’s like his light has dimmed. He offers Louis half-smiles and the kind of amiable touches he gives everyone but Louis can’t help but think whatever there was is over before it even began. Liam’s overseas and Louis’ got few friends that weren’t Niall’s first and so he stews, lives inside his misery until it becomes comfortable, or at least normal. After a little while, things return mostly to normal; Niall returns to a good imitation of his former self and Louis tries not to dwell despite the constant reminder of what he can’t have pottering about his kitchen and lounging on his sofa.

It’s a rainy Sunday afternoon when something inside Louis breaks, perhaps caused by cabin fever perhaps by nothing at all, and all of a sudden it’s like he can’t handle it anymore.

“I’m going to move out, I think,” Louis says without warning as they’re sitting on the couch a metre apart watching the footy, beers in hand, a bowl of chips lying untouched on the coffee table. 

Niall leans forward and places his beer down, sighing. “I thought we talked about this.” Niall’s brow wrinkles. 

Louis nods. “I think things have changed a bit since then, don’t you?”

Niall purses his lips but doesn’t say anything.

Louis continues, “I know I pushed you–and maybe that wasn’t fair–but I can’t go on like this.”

Niall still isn’t looking at him, staring at the condensation from his beer bottle pooling on the tabletop. “I really like living with you, I…”

“Me too,” Louis replies gently, “But I can’t do this. It’s all or nothing for me, and this is… unbearable.” He so desperately wants to reach out and touch Niall, create a bridge between them, and Louis’ fingers twitch where they rest on his knee but they don’t budge.

Niall huffs, “Jeez, Tomlinson, tell us how you really feel.”

Louis doesn’t take the bait; Niall has no more right to anger than he does but Louis knows it won’t help them now. “You know what I mean,” Louis says, rolling his eyes, “Or I guess you don’t,” he adds bitterly.

Niall’s face twists in confusion but he doesn’t disagree.

Louis doubles-down since it’s clear Niall has nothing to contribute to this conversation, “If it’d make you feel better I’m sure I can request a transfer. Maybe even back to Sydney–”

“Is that what you want?” Niall asks abruptly, spinning around to face Louis and Louis just crumbles, his anger vanishing.

“Of course not,” Louis supplies incredulously, “I feel like–I tried to make it clear what I want, but you–you don’t want that.” It’s the most honest Louis’ been since they started this whole thing and it’s jarring the way he’s spilling his guts in broad daylight even though its long overdue. If only Niall could do the same, he thinks dejectedly.

Niall just nods again, turning away from Louis again, thinking.

“So, uh… I guess I’ll start looking at places. Let me know if you change your mind about the transfer, ok?”

Niall nods. “Ok.”

Louis can’t sit on the stupid couch pretending like everything’s fine for one more second. He sets his jaw and leaps to his feet. He has nowhere to go, thinks depressingly he might have to go into the office just to disappear, but something stops him in his tracks. “That’s all you’re going to say, then?”

“I’m sorry,” Niall whispers, head in his hands. “I don’t–”

“Yeah, yeah you’re always sorry, but you never fucking do anything, Niall. It doesn’t have to be this hard,” Louis says, blinking back tears. “Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair soon,” he snaps before storming away to his room, slamming the door, not even caring how stupid it makes him look.

Louis’ fuming as he pulls things haphazardly from his wardrobe and rearranges things in his room. It’s not even an attempt at packing, just an attempt to do something, anything, to take his mind the rising anger in his throat, the sour taste of missed opportunity rising like bile. He didn’t expect much from his Melbourne adventure, but he didn’t expect–or ever _want_–it to end so soon. The thought of moving back to Sydney fills him with dread and having to deal with all the baggage with El and his family’s pointless expectations for them will just pull him under. He wonders briefly if he made the wrong decision, moving, creating all this drama and heartache for himself, but even so, he knows he wouldn’t change it for anything.

The door creaks open. “Please don’t go,” comes the small voice from his bedroom doorway and just looking at Niall, every fucking time, no matter how angry he is, Louis wants nothing more than to just wrap his arms around him. He feels so fucking lost without him.

Louis lowers his eyes and looks away, just fusses with his t-shirts where they’re folded tidily in his wardrobe. “You’re not giving me much choice, mate.”

“That’s not fair, Lou.”

Louis spins on his heel to confront him. “I know it’s not, ok? I know I can’t make you feel something you don’t, or make you talk about things you don’t want to talk about. But at the same time, I don’t have to stay here, be happy with us hanging out and mucking around occasionally. It’s not enough, Niall, do you get that?”

Niall looks at his feet. “I get it more than you think.”

Louis looks at him but doesn’t ask, he’s so fucking tired of asking and never getting answers. He rakes both hands through his hair in frustration, holding on to yank at the lengths. Since moving, he’s grown it out and it feels like just yet another step in his transformation.

“Look,” Niall continues, approaching timidly, “I’m not the best at communicating…” _No shit,_ Louis mutters unkindly, “but I’m getting there, I promise, I’m working things out. I’ve just been through some stuff, and–”

“Niall, we’ve all been through stuff, ok? Risk-reward ratio, mate. I can’t make you want me but I can fucking tell you that you’ll never get what you want in life if you can’t put yourself out there.” Louis surprises himself with his words, realising he’s done a lot of weighing up of his own since this whole thing began, slowly coming around to the fact that for Niall, he’s willing to do almost anything. 

Niall looks broken as he comes even closer, biting his lip as he looks longingly into Louis’ eyes. “I do want you, though, I told you that, when we–” Niall blushes, averting his eyes, but he doesn’t stop, coming ever closer still.

“Ni–” Louis’ voice catches in his throat; he wants to stand firm but he knows he’s proved powerless in the past every time Niall’s dared to show him how good it can be between them. He knows with certainty he’ll be bereft afterward, the longing eating away at him like an open wound, but he also knows that he’ll feel like that anyway, as soon as he walks out of the door. His stomach lurches when he realises this will probably be the last time.

Niall steps forward once more until he’s in Louis’ space, placing his palms gently on Louis’ shoulders, looking up at him intently. Louis stands frozen, swallowing the lump in his throat, unsure what Niall’s got in mind and too despondent to make a move of his own. Niall reaches a hand up to trace over Louis’ cheek and Louis’ eyes close involuntarily at the touch. Niall lowers both palms to Louis’ chest and leans to whisper in his ear, “Look at me, Lou,” and there’s no way Niall can’t feel Louis’ heart pumping underneath his hand.

Louis opens his eyes and Niall’s staring right into them. He feels vulnerable, exposed like he’s never felt with anyone as if Niall can see right through him. An errant hand shoots out to grip Niall’s hip and yanks him close. Louis wants to kiss the breath out of him, absolutely devour him, but he can’t bear to tear his eyes away from Niall’s determined gaze.

“You get me like no one else,” Louis whispers, nosing at Niall’s cheek, eyelashes fluttering, as Niall’s hands travel slowly down his body until they settle on his hips. “I’m yours.”

Niall pushes him gently back towards the bed and it’s not terribly romantic but Louis’ already rock hard in his trackies, the soft fleece tenting obscenely. He’s too turned on to be embarrassed, just lets his face fall into the crook of Niall’s neck to mouth hotly at Niall’s skin, lips wandering from his collarbone to his ear. Niall whimpers, leaning into the touch, but he doesn’t waver, nudging Louis towards the mattress until Louis’ legs buckle beneath him and he falls gently onto his back. Niall climbs on top of him, straddling his hips.

Louis’ immobile, staring wordlessly up at Niall until Niall climbs on top of him. His arms feel like lead as he lifts them to palm uselessly at Niall’s thighs, his fingertips raking up and down them but too shy and overcome to do much else.

Niall doesn’t waste time, unzipping Louis’ hoodie to push his hands up under his t-shirt. His touch is electric and Louis cants his hips up with a groan, stretching out so the pleasure can zip unimpeded up and down his body. Niall doesn’t make eye contact as his hands drift over Louis’ body but the blush on his cheeks and the straining of his own pants lets Louis know he’s feeling it too. Niall’s fingers move to the knot at Louis’ waistband and he unlaces it skilfully but he doesn’t pull Louis’ pants down, just skates his hand across Louis’ length, squeezing gently at the tip.

Louis gasps; it feels very real in a way he wasn’t prepared for; Niall’s touch, Niall’s attention, all for the purpose of making him feel good. Niall’s touch is gentle but focused and fuck, he knows exactly what he’s doing. The air between them isn’t clear, not by a long shot, but if it’s all going to be over soon and he does move out, he wants to take this memory with him.

Niall’s hands slow to a stop and Niall grins before tucking his fingers into Louis’ waistband and tugging his pants and his boxers down to his knees. He’s never been this exposed in front of a guy before and the way Niall’s mouth goes slack with want is a shock, despite how much Louis’ been dreaming of making Niall look just like that.

Louis’ fingers clench his sheets for want of something better to do with his hands. He wants to reach out and pull Niall down on top of him, crush their bodies together skin-to-skin, but he’s not sure he’d have the wherewithal or the coordination to achieve it anyway. In any case, Niall’s got a plan.

“What are we doing?” Louis asks breathily, grabbing Niall’s wrist to look him in the eyes. He doesn’t know if he’s asking here, now, or more generally.

“Trust me,” Niall responds, and it’s not really an answer, but it’s enough. Niall’s tongue darts out to lick his lips and Louis’ dick fucking twitches with anticipation.

Niall lowers himself down and Louis can’t breathe, watches him like it’s happening in slow motion. When Niall takes him in his mouth Louis thinks he might melt, his limbs heavy and his mind blank; he can’t focus on anything besides the blindingly good wet heat of Niall’s tongue on his dick, lapping at the tip and sucking him down in long pulls. One of Niall’s hands holds him at the base, angling him perfectly, and the other grips into his hamstring, fingers tickling the inside of his thigh sending sparks of pleasure straight up his spine.

“Oh fuck,” is all Louis can articulate, because it’s the best fucking blow job of his life. Niall takes him down his throat like it’s easy and his mouth feels hotter than anyone he’s ever been with, his tongue doing things Louis never even knew were possible.

Louis tucks his fingers into Niall’s hair as Niall blows him and even his hair feels fantastic, thick and soft, a lock falling delicately into his eyes as he sucks, cheeks hollowed, moaning softly like he knows exactly how fucking good at this he is. It’s incredible but Louis wants more, and as it is, he’s going to come way too soon. Louis props himself up on his elbows and reaches from Niall’s hair to his shoulder to tug at his shirt but Niall either doesn’t take the hint, or ignores it, sucking deeper and harder until Louis realises he has no intention of stopping.

“Hey wait,” Louis pants. “Stop or I’ll come.”

Niall pulls off but his eyes are dark and when he speaks, his voice his deep and determined, “That’s the point.” He grins and Louis returns it with an uneasy sort of half-smile, not objecting when Niall dives back down.

Louis comes in ten seconds, so hard he’s seeing stars, straight into Niall’s mouth. Niall eases him through it, stroking his thighs, mouth gentle as he swallows. When he’s done, Niall sits back on his haunches, a shy, delighted little look on his face.

Louis throws a forearm over his eyes in wonderment; he’s not come like that in a long time, maybe ever, but he also can’t help being a little disappointed it’s over so soon.

“Hey,” he whispers, sitting up to grab Niall by the forearm, tugging him down to lie beside him. “Let me look after you now.” Louis nuzzles at Niall’s neck but Niall just holds Louis firmly in place, pulling away. Instead, Niall plants a cursory kiss on Louis’ forehead but shakes his head.

“It’s all good, babe.” He gestures to the damp patch at his crotch and Louis feels selfish and a little ashamed that he didn’t even notice.

“Good thing we have all afternoon then,” Louis says smiling, eyes crinkling. Niall nods but he seems hesitant so Louis takes the opportunity to grab Niall’s face in his hands and plant a chaste kiss on his lips. It’s not much, closed mouth and brief but it feels like a starburst in Louis’ chest, warm and scintillating and Louis wants to do it again and again, until his lips are sore and his hands shake.

Niall opens his mouth in protest but Louis can’t help himself, blanketing Niall’s mouth with his own, uttering an involuntary moan from deep in his belly. It’s unbelievably good but he can’t fail to notice Niall’s not kissing him back. “Please babe,” Louis murmurs, kissing a trail across Niall’s jaw down to his neck but Niall’ frozen in place, hand gripping Louis’ shoulder weakly, neither pulling him in nor pushing him away.

When it’s clear Niall’s not reciprocating, Louis pulls away but he keeps his palm on Niall’s face, cradling his cheek as he looks into his eyes. On his knees, Niall was fearless, confident, but now, Louis sees the way Niall’s retreating, his eyes lowered, his body tucked in on itself.

“Hey,” Louis says. “You don’t have to be scared.”

Niall nods. There’s pain in his eyes and Louis feels it too, heavy like a weight.

“Look at me,” Louis insists, tugging Niall’s face up so they’re looking right at each other. Niall looks unsure but in that moment, despite everything, Louis’ never been more sure of anything in his life.

“I love you,” he says, thumb ghosting over the smooth skin of Niall’s cheek.

Niall gulps and lowers his eyes before whispering, “I know.”

Louis feels like he’s gone from the top of the world to the depths of despair. “Shit, ok.”

Niall backpedals desperately as Louis pulls away to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling, blinking back tears. “It’s not that I don’t, Lou, I just–, I can’t–”

Louis can’t even look at him, he feels fucking drained, empty. “It’s ok. You don’t have to explain. I don’t know why I thought this would change anything.”

**

By the Friday of the following week, Louis’ committed to a room in a share-house, an older place in an inner-city suburb with a couch on the porch. His future housemates are like him, late-twenty-somethings with good jobs and they seem switched-on, considerate, all you could ask for really, but they’re not going to be as good as Niall and Louis misses him already.

Louis’ just gotten off the phone with the removalist–booked in for that weekend–when his phone rings again, a call from an unknown number. His thumb hovers over the button before he answers, holding the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Is this Louis Tomlinson?” a deep, syrupy voice says down the line.

“Yes it is…” Louis says, “who’s this?”

“My name’s Harry. Harry Styles. I’m a friend of Niall’s. Sorry to call you like this, but do you have a minute to talk?”

Louis’ heart races, instantly worried, but he spins around in his seat and Niall’s there, across the floor of the office, laughing happily with Jeremy. Fucking Jeremy.

“Uh yeah mate, just give me a minute.” Louis rises out of his chair and heads over to one of the communal workspaces, a cosy lounge-like room full of colourful couches, that’s thankfully empty. “Shoot.”

“Sorry if this is totally weird,” the bloke, Harry, says down the line, “but I’m a bit worried about him.”

Louis sighs, squeezing his eyes tight. “Yeah.”

“He’s told me a bit about what’s been going on.”

Louis’ embarrassed that Niall’s been airing their dirty laundry but then he thinks back to his own conversation with Liam, when he desperately needed a friend’s ear. He understands why Niall would want to do the same.

“Yeah, well it’s over now.” Louis shrugs even though Harry can’t see him.

“I don’t think it has to be,” Harry says slowly. “He doesn’t want it to be.”

Louis scoffs sadly. “Could have fooled me, mate. I’ve given him a lot of chances, he’s not interested.”

“Look,” Harry says firmly, “it’s not my place to tell you the whole story, but he’s hurting, and as much as it kills me to say this, he fucking loves you. A lot.”

Louis’ eyes ache as he blinks back tears. “Maybe, but I can’t– I can’t keep waiting. And I definitely can’t keep doing what we’re doing. It sucks.”

Harry sighs but he’s patient. “Trust me, Louis, I know what that’s like. But I promise you he wants this. Wants you. He’s never been good about asking for what he wants, that’s part of why he–“ Harry cuts himself off, “I just mean, he has a tendency to just bottle it all up, put on this front, pretend that he’s fine with things being casual, easy.”

Harry goes on, “But I’ve known him a long time, and he wants something real. And it’s time, he move on from–, well, I’ll let him tell you that.”

There’s a moment of silence as Louis digests what he’s been told. None of it’s a shock, not really, but it’s validating hearing it, hearing that it’s not all his fault. “Thanks, man,” he tells Harry with a sigh, “that helps.”

“Good. Do me a favour ok? Just give him one more chance before you go.”

“I’ll take it into consideration,” Louis replies but it sounds cold, especially when he’s just about ready to go and confront Niall right now that’s how buoyed he is by Harry’s words. “I love him,” he adds, because it’s the truth.

Louis can hear the smile in Harry’s voice when he says, “That’s good. He’s pretty fucking fantastic and, as much as this kills me to say this, I think you’re good for him.”

Louis huffs out a little laugh. “Thanks, mate. I–uh, I better get going, but I appreciate the call, really.”

“Ok good,” Harry responds, and he sounds satisfied. “Hey Louis?”

“Yeah?”

“I look forward to meeting you.” Harry’s words fill Louis with hope as he lets himself indulge the fantasy of he and Niall being an actual couple, introducing their friends, eventually even their families. He feels a little surge of pride bloom in his chest.

“You too, mate. Seriously, thank you.”

“Ok, I’ll let you go,” Harry says and Louis bids him goodbye before ending the call.

Louis breathes deeply, taking a few moments to collect himself and digest Harry’s words before heading back out onto the floor.

**

“So, I, uh…”, Louis says nervously, “The movers are coming at eleven tomorrow.” It’s not the best start but it’s something.

Later that evening, he and Niall are chilling in the living room like it’s any other day, not their last night together. Louis’ mostly packed, belongings packed into boxes stacked in his room. Only his bare furniture remains and a few things to chuck in last-minute tomorrow morning.

Niall nods with a weak smile, “Do you want a hand or do you want me to get out of your hair?”

“Up to you.” Louis shrugs, attempting levity. An awkward silence follows, Niall won’t meet his eyes, instead staring at his feet.

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” Niall mutters after a while, eyes downcast, and Louis’ heart beats faster.

“It’s ok, dude. This whole thing has freaked me out a bit too,” Louis jokes, but it falls flat, Niall just thumbing at the neck of his beer bottle. It feels like his last chance to resolve things but it’s not coming easily.

Louis turns to tuck a leg under himself on the couch facing Niall. “Sorry if I, like, came on too strong.”

Niall shakes his head and offers a sad smile. “You didn’t Lou, you’ve been awesome. None of this is your fault.”

Louis doesn’t want to rush him but he has to know. “Then, like… why?”

Niall just looks helpless before uttering a loud groan, doubling over to put his head in his hands. He sits up but still can’t meet Louis’ eyes. “Do you remember when we met and I told you I’d recently gotten out of a relationship?”

Louis nods. Niall’s never really talked about exes.

“And you remember when you said it was unbearable, just hooking up when you wanted the real deal?”

Louis nods again; the pain of having Niall so close but not being able to reach for him is still there, like a dull ache. Niall is visibly on edge, fidgeting in the corner of the couch, pinching at the seam of his trackpants. Louis’ own hand twitches in his lap; he doesn’t want to stop Niall talking by offering an unwelcome touch but he so desperately wants to reach out in case it offers some comfort.

His heart takes over and he places a soothing palm on Niall’s knee. Niall just stares it and Louis wonders if he’s made a mistake before Niall noticeably relaxes, placing his own hand over Louis’ and squeezing his fingers.

“Whatever happened,” Louis whispers staring at their interlocked hands, “It’s ok to let yourself have this.” When he looks up though, Niall has tears in his eyes.

“I’ve been so fucking scared, Lou,” he says softly and he looks fucking broken.

Louis takes another leap of faith, sliding over to wrap his other arm around Niall’s shoulders, gripping him close. “You don’t have to be scared with me. And I’ll listen, if you want to talk.”

Niall wipes roughly at his tears with the back of hand.

“He worked at the company too, although not in our area,” Niall starts slowly.

Louis doesn’t say anything, just brushes his thumb over Niall’s knuckles.

“So, we started hooking up, first at work,” Niall grimaces, “then here. After a couple of months, I asked why we never went to his place, well, long story short, turns out he was married.”

“Shit,” Louis mutters, because it’s all starting to make sense.

Niall shrugs. “He was older and I was stupid, and I was ok with it just being physical at first because it was hot, and fun. He took me to fancy hotels and dinners and shit, and the sneaking around was exciting, made me feel special, like I was worth it.”

“Anyway,” Niall continues, “the inevitable happened and I started having feelings for him. I told him I wanted more and he said he did too, fed me this whole story about how he was going to leave her for me. That went on for months, me begging, him making excuses.”

“Did you love him?” Louis asks softly and Niall nods. Even though it’s long over, Louis feels a deep pang of jealousy.

“One day he comes around and just tells me it’s over, his wife is pregnant and he wants to get back to his real life. They’re the words he used, his _real life_.” Niall winces like he can still feel the sting, his eyes refilling with tears.

“It wasn’t your fault, babe,” Louis tries to reassure him.

“I believed him, Louis! I was too fucking gone to see what was right in front of me. I was so stupid.” Niall places his head in his hands and Louis feels his heart break for him, reaching a hand to stroke Niall’s back as he’s wracked with sobs.

“He used you though,” Louis protests, because he can hardly reconcile the cheerful, confident Niall he knows with the poor kid who fell for this asshole’s bullshit.

“I so wanted it to be real.” Niall sniffs loudly and he looks so soft and fragile that Louis can hardly bear it. He can feel his own tears coming without warning, and he’s a mess as he reaches to brush a tear from Niall’s cheek.

“Anyway,” Niall starts, looking up at Louis, “that’s why I was scared about you–about _us_. I can’t fall for someone again only to find I’m their bit on the side, or part of some phase. There must be something wrong with me,” Niall laughs but there’s no humour in it, “like I’m good enough to fuck but not good enough to keep.”

Louis caves then, pulling Niall into his arms like he’s wanted to for months, kissing at his hair, his cheek. “You are,” Louis whispers fiercely into Niall’s temple, “Fucking hell Niall, that guy? That’s not me–I’m a done deal.”

Niall pulls out of the crook of Louis’ neck and his hair is a mess, face blotchy, tears staining his perfect white tee. “I love you, Lou,” Niall whispers, his mouth breaking into a shy smile and Louis feels something in him break like a dam, a flush of warmth, palpable relief, and a wave of sheer fucking love that threatens to engulf him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before.”

Louis beams as well as he can through his watery eyes and pulls Niall’s face to his. “Better late than never, babe.”

This time, Niall kisses him back.

**

“I want to carry you but I don’t think I’ll make it,” Louis whispers in Niall’s ear with a smile as Niall presses hot kisses to his neck from where he’s seated in Louis’ lap.

Niall snorts in response and it feels easy and comfortable but also freeing, and Louis thinks just being able to kiss and laugh together makes what they’re doing so much hotter. “I won’t be impressed if you break your neck before we get naked,” Niall retorts and the visual alone means Louis shoots up off the couch to drag Niall to the master bedroom.

Louis loses his composure as soon as they cross the threshold, holding Niall gently in his arms as they stand barefoot on the carpet, unsure where to start.

Niall smiles softly and takes charge, lifting Louis’ hoodie and t-shirt over his head in one. He rakes his hands over Louis’ bare chest and Louis sucks in a breath, eyes fluttering closed. It’s nothing much yet but just the knowledge of Niall being all in, wanting this as much as he does, is enough to send him reeling.

Louis forces his eyes open and takes a moment to drink Niall in; his eyes are still a bit puffy, shirt rumpled and hair mussed but he looks more beautiful than Louis’ ever seen him because he’s finally _his_. Louis tugs clumsily at the hem of Niall’s shirt and yanks it over his head, balling it up and tossing it to the corner of the room.

The gesture elicits a grin from Niall and Louis can’t help but sigh, “Fuck, I’m so in love with you.”

Niall smiles fondly, reaching to cup Louis’ cheek and Louis’ so fucking helpless to it, leaning into the touch. Niall steps closer still, eyes never leaving Louis’ as he bites at his lower lip a little. “This ok?” he asks as his hands skate over Louis’ ass before pushing his fingertips into the waistband of Louis’ trackies. Louis just nods and Niall pushes his clothes down until they pool at his ankles.

He’s fully hard but despite his nakedness, Louis doesn’t feel exposed this time, just wants to get Niall undressed and pressed to him. Thankfully, Niall steps back and shucks his shorts, smirking before pulling Louis into his arms and flopping them both onto the bed.

Louis laughs as they bounce on top of the mattress and it’s a shock, how good this is, how easy it feels. Niall showers his face with kisses until the moment grows charged again. Niall kisses him like he’s making up for lost time, easing Louis’ mouth open with his tongue and licking inside until they’re both gasping for air. When Niall pulls away, Louis misses his mouth immediately and nuzzles desperately as his throat. “What’d you stop for?” he pants, scared for the briefest moment until Niall tugs at his hair and moans.

Niall pulls Louis up so they’re face to face. “What do you want?” His eyes are dark and his lips red from kissing and it’s a chore for Louis to formulate words.

“I don’t care,” he manages, “I just need you.”

They make eye contact before Niall seals their lips together again in a searing kiss, a hand clasped to Louis’ neck as he pushes his knee between Louis’ legs. Louis can’t get enough then, fitting his body to Niall’s, no sound in the room besides their desperate breathing.

Louis’ hands wander, marvelling at how Niall’s body feels beneath his fingers. It’s like having sex with a girl in that same fundamental way but it’s also so different; Niall’s all muscle and bone, hot and firm. Louis doesn’t hold back exploring; squeezing and caressing, determined to commit every inch of Niall to memory. There’s sweat at Niall’s neck and his skin is tacky where Louis mouths at it, tasting him, and Louis wants to mould himself to Niall’s shape and never let go.

Niall’s grinds their hips together and it’s clumsy, the way their dicks slide and bump together but it’s also amazing, nothing besides nakedness and skin and the heat building between them. Niall palms at Louis’ ass and Louis can’t help but groan.

Louis already feels like he could come when Niall nibbles at his ear and whispers, “Do you want to fuck me?”

Louis’ face must betray him because Niall kisses him softly, and says, “We don’t have to right away… we can just get off.”

Louis gulps because _fuck that_. “No, I want to.” He pauses. “Fuck, yes, let’s do that.”

Niall smiles wickedly and places a featherlight kiss on Louis’ nose. “Ok.”

Louis’ in awe as Niall fingers himself open. Niall tugs at his lip with his teeth, eyes closed and Louis can’t do anything besides watch on and stroke Niall’s thighs feebly. 

Louis’ woken from his reverie when Niall presses the tube of KY into his palm. He has no clue what to do but when he presses in, Niall’s jaw goes slack and his mouth drops open and then he’s making these _sounds_ and Louis’ fucking gone for it.

“You look so good, Ni,” Louis pants weakly, “doing so good.”

After what feels like forever, Niall climbs into his lap and lowers himself down, achingly slow. Immediately, it’s so fucking hot, Louis can hardly stand it. Niall’s so tight around him, it’s as if he’s pulling Louis into his body and Louis thinks he could come any second.

It’s more intense than anything he’s ever felt, the way Niall grinds down on him, his fingers splayed and pressed into the flesh of Louis’ middle, and all Louis can do is hold on for dear life.

Niall reaches a hand to stroke himself. He looks painfully hard, foreskin taut and the head of his dick red where it peeks out of his fist and it hits Louis that it’s incredibly intimate, the way he can see how turned on Niall is by this. That, and sharing this quiet moment in Niall’s bedroom, Louis feels like they’re more connected than anyone he’s ever been with before. It feels so amazing he thinks they might combust from the inside out, explode into tiny little bursts of light made of desire, and love.

As if reading his mind, Niall rocks back down and then he’s coming with a choked-off moan, come spilling from Niall’s fist onto Louis’ belly. It’s messy and it’s crazy but just like that, Niall looks like everything Louis’ ever wanted.

“Oh fuck,” Louis grunts then, snapping his hips upwards with one instinctive thrust, and then he’s coming too, hot streams filling the condom as Niall clenches around him. When Louis’ spent, Niall falls forward and Louis can feel Niall’s smile press against his cheek. “Holy fuck,” Niall giggles sleepily.

Louis sighs and wraps his arms around Niall’s back, and finally, _finally_, everything is as it should be.

**

When they’ve unstuck themselves, Louis rolls onto his side, a hand under his pillow, to stare at Niall as his bare chest rises and falls.

Niall has his arms folded behind his head as he lies on his back with a blissful look on his face.

“How was that?” Louis asks with a sly grin.

Niall raises his eyebrows, “Fishing for compliments, Tomlinson?”

Louis licks his lips. “Maybe.”

Niall rolls over to face him. “You’re pretty good for a rookie.”

Louis plays along, looking outraged before planting a kiss on Niall’s eager lips. “Do you think it’s weird?” he asks after a moment.

Niall smiles, “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific, babe.”

The word makes something bloom in Louis’ chest because now it means something but he doesn’t waver. “Like, with me. How I’ve never–, until now, I mean. With you.”

By some miracle, Niall cottons on to what he’s asking. “I’m not an expert with these things,” Niall starts slowly as if deep in thought, “but I’m a big believer in just doing what feels good. Not worrying about things too much unless it’s hurting other people.” Niall shrugs. “Sorry if that’s not very helpful. I’ve only ever been a hundred and ten per cent gay, so…” Niall’s laughs and his face breaks into one of his trademark 1000-watt smiles that Louis knows he’s never going to tire of.

Louis sighs. “I’ve just been thinking… Makes me wonder if there might have been one or two reasons I didn’t want to commit. It feels different with you.”

Niall just smiles softly. “Doesn’t mean what you had with her wasn’t real, like you say, it’s just different. People grow up, people change.”

“Maybe,” Louis replies, rolling Niall onto his back so he can lean his head on his chest, the soft hair pleasantly prickling the side of his face. “I feel like I was looking for something when I moved here, but then I think I was looking for the wrong thing. What I was really looking for, like… it found me.”

They lie in silence after that, Louis drawing little circles on Niall’s chest with his finger, Niall lazily stroking his hair.

“Does he still live here? In Melbourne?” Louis asks after a while.

Niall shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so. Left the company though and I haven’t seen him since. He’d have a baby now.”

“I’ll kill him for what he did to you.”

Niall snorts. “Easy tiger. Anyway, I wouldn’t, he’s twice your size.”

Louis frowns but Niall just laughs. “Honestly, don’t even think about it. I’ve got a feeling I won’t be thinking about him much anymore anyway.”

Louis rolls back onto his back, stretching his arms above his head. “Am I getting ahead of myself if I cancel the removalists?”

Niall cackles wildly, diving on top of Louis. “Fuck am I glad to hear you say that.”

Louis wiggles his eyebrows. “Noted.”

Niall pauses, “Am I getting ahead of myself if I suggest we turn your room into an office?”

Louis purses his lips before breaking into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Do you mean…?”

Niall blushes then, a shock of pink from his chest all the way to his ears. “Yeah, Lou,” Niall grins, “We could even work from home sometimes, I mean, have I _told_ you how much I hate hot desking?”

Louis rolls his eyes and gives Niall a gentle shove, rolling him off. “I don’t even know why I love you, you’re the actual worst.”

“Hey Lou?” Niall pipes up sometime later when Louis’ kissing his way down Niall’s torso with intent. _Mm?_, Louis grunts in reply, not easily deterred.

“Do you think it’s too late to have that ground rules chat?”

  
THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for making it to the end! If you enjoyed it, please leave me a comment about which bit you liked best :)
> 
> I am also on [tumblr](https://bitter-leaf.tumblr.com), come say hi if you like.


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